Tangled Voices
by becauseihaveyourback
Summary: It's been just over a year since she suddenly left. Just over a year since Jane has heard her voice. When Jane and Maura's daughter discovers a series of voice recordings the two women made together while Maura was pregnant, Jane finds herself unable to stop listening to them. And when a whisper of Maura's presence reaches her ears... she finds herself unable to ignore it.
1. Chapter 1

**Some of you may have read this first chapter on my tumblr when I posted it a few weeks ago for one of the fic challenges. It had been written for a few weeks before I posted it there, actually, and I was saving the idea with the intention of working on it after I finish Sit Still. As you can see, I decided I didn't want to wait quite that long before continuing it, although updates won't be as frequent as the ones I write for Sit Still at least until I finish up school for the semester and have more time to work on all of my fics. That being said, I hope you enjoy this newest addition to my fic family, and be sure to let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!**

* * *

_"Okay, kid. The _only _reason I'm doing this is because your mother told me to."_

_I lowered my voice to a whisper._

_"By the time you're old enough to understand what I'm saying, you'll have already figured out how… _convincing _Mummy can be when she wants something."_

_"Jane! You can't say things like that!" Maura laughed._

_I hear the distinctive sound of her playfully hitting my arm._

_"Okay, okay," I said as I tried to pacify her. "I'm only kidding. I love your mother very, very much, little one. And I love you, too."_

_I lowered my voice back to a whisper._

_"But she really _can _be scary sometimes."_

_"Jane!" she laughed again._

I stop the recording.

"See, Ma! It's _Mummy_!"

_I know,_ I think to myself. _Trust me, honey, I could never forget that voice._ I paste a smile on my face, nodding gently and scooping my baby girl up onto my lap.

"Yeah, sweetie. That's Mummy. Where did you find this?"

She points across the room to her toy chest, an adorable smile stretching from ear to ear. God, I love it when she smiles like that. Those dimples. And her little eyes sparkle, just like…

"Where, Bea?"

She gets up and runs across the room, reaching down into the toy chest and pulling out a small, black CD case. My heart stops for a moment as I recognize it. How could I _not_? Maura carried it with her everywhere for almost five months… times _two_.

"Is this Mummy's?" Beatrice asks me, holding up the case.

I nod, motioning for her to come back to my lap.

"They're _yours_, but she made them for you. When you were still in _here_," I say with a grin, reaching around to tickle her until she giggles and squirms away.

"Why don't I get to see her anymore?" she asks me, when the laughter dies down.

It's hard for me to look her in the eyes when she says it. She has these big, beautiful, hazel eyes. And when she looks at me, it's an expression that I used to see from her mother a million times. Curious innocence. _Adorable_ innocence. And it hurts.

I place a kiss into the honey blonde waves on the top of her head. One more thing to remind me of her beautiful mother.

"You _know_ why, Bea. Mum doesn't live with us."

She sticks out her lower lip, half pouting and half processing the information.

"Well, can she come live with us now?"

_Damn_. _How am I even supposed to answer that?_

"I don't think so, sweetie. Hey, let's-"

"Why _not_, Ma?" she asks, her lip starting to quiver and her eyes filling up with tears.

_No no no, please don't cry. I need to fix this. How the hell am I supposed to fix this?_

"Sweetie… Mummy lives far away. That's where her job is, so that's where she lives."

"But…" she sniffs, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. I grab a tissue and hand it to her, my heart breaking with each tear that falls. God, I hate it when she cries. To see her sad is the worst feeling. Especially when it's something like this. Something I can't just _fix_. It's like her eyes, her tears, her whole _being_, are mocking me.

_She's crying. You didn't stop it. She's hurting. You didn't protect her. She trusted you. You let her down._ And that, too, reminds me of Maura.

She looks back up at me, handing me the tissue.

"Can't we go there? Where she is?"

I just pull her against me, squeezing her tight. _Maybe if I hug her tightly enough, she'll forget how much she misses Maura. Maybe I can just be enough. Maybe I can hug her for both of us. Maybe she'll stop asking questions that I don't know how to answer._

"We can't, sweetie. I don't _know_ where she is."

The crying turns to sobbing, and I know I'm not enough. I _can't_ be enough. No one else is Mummy. No one else is _Maura_. I'm just _Jane_. And I'm not enough.

She's shaking against me, her breath ragged as she cries into my shoulder.

"I… I m-miss… Mummyyy," she wails as she tries to catch her breath.

"I know, baby, I know."

_You can't cry, Jane. Don't you dare cry in front of your daughter. Don't you dare do that to her. Pull it together, Rizzoli. Come on. She can't see you cry._

I swallow the lump in my throat. I rub her back, trying to calm her down. It takes a few minutes, but it works. It always does, although she's never been quite this persistent before. Then again, she's never listened to these recordings before, either. It seems like an eternity has passed since I've even remembered that they existed. It seems like an eternity has passed since I've heard Maura's voice anywhere other than in my dreams.

_Stop that, Jane. Stop thinking about her. You'll cry, and then Bea will cry again. You cannot, _you cannot, _let her see you cry._

"Ma?" she whispers, reaching up with one hand to rub her eyes.

"Hm?"

"Can we l-listen to more? More of Mummy?"

I pull her gently away so that I can look at her. So that she can look at me. _That can't be a good idea, right? It'll only make her more upset. _I shake my head.

"I don't think so, Bea. It makes you sad. I don't want you to be sad, sweetie."

Her lip starts to quiver again. Her eyes. _Little Maura._

"I'm already s-sad, Ma. But I like to h-hear Mummy t-talking."

I rub her back some more, trying to get her to breathe normally again. And I think about it. Try to figure out what to do. _She has a point. She _is _already sad. _But I don't remember what's on those recordings. It could make it worse. Couldn't it?

"Here, give that to me," I say gently, taking the CD case from her hand. "Let me listen first, okay? And then maybe you can listen to it later. Let's get you cheered up first, HoneyBea."

She nods, sniffling again and reaching for another tissue.

I hear the front door open and close.

"Janie?" My mother calls from the hallway.

Bea's face lights up.

"G-Gramma!" she hiccups, hopping down off of my lap and running out of the room.

I hear my mother plant a few kisses somewhere on her face, and the rustling of clothes as she scoops her up to wrap her in a hug.

"Oh… sweetheart… why are you crying? You okay?"

I hold my breath, waiting for her response.

"I just miss Mummy," I hear her say quietly.

I hear another kiss landing on her cheek.

"Aw, it's okay, baby. We _all_ miss her."

Footsteps make their way back towards me, and then Gramma and Bea appear in the doorway. My Ma takes one look at me, and I can instantly see the concern on her face. She puts Bea down and tilts her head in my direction.

"Beatrice, why don't you go play in the living room for a minute while I talk to your Ma," she says quietly, patting her granddaughter on the head. "But don't wake up your sister!"

My little HoneyBea smiles up at her Gramma and then takes off down the hallway. _Here we go._

"You okay, Janie?" Ma asks, coming over to sit next to me on Bea's bed.

I nod, but I know she doesn't believe it.

"Are those…?" she asks quietly.

I nod again, holding up the CD case.

"She found these in her toy chest and started listening to the first one. First time she's heard her voice since… a while. She was pretty upset about it."

I clear my throat, and my mother puts her arm around me.

"You don't have to pretend that you don't miss her, Janie. I know you still do. I do, too."

I nod, inhaling deeply and slowly letting out the breath.

"I just… It makes me so sad. For our girls. I'm not enough, Ma. And Maura just… I never planned to do this on my own. We wanted to have a family _together_. I never thought I'd have to do it without her."

Ma sighs and rubs my back. I smile, having done the same thing for my own daughter just a few minutes ago.

"Sometimes people lose themselves, Janie. That person who left you… she was lost, somehow. And I _have_ to believe that when our Maura finds herself again… she'll come back to her family."

I lean back against my mother's shoulder.

"Maybe," I whisper.

I pause to take another deep breath.

"She knows where to find us."

Ma pats me gently on the knee and kisses the top of my head, smiling at me before getting up to go watch the girls. I stare down at the CDs in my hands, and at Bea's little portable karaoke machine on the floor at my feet, with the first of the CDs still inside. My chest tightens, but I decide to do it anyway. I hit play.

_"Quit yelling at me, Maura!" I laughed. "The baby gets to hear _your _voice all the time. If you want her to hear _my _voice, then _you're _going to have to be _quiet_."_

_I hear her kiss me, and I remember it. It was only a kiss on the cheek, but I remember the way she was looking at me when it happened. The way she used to look at me as if she and I shared some special secret. Ours. Our own special look for our own special secret, just her and I. When we were a team._

_"Okay, Jane. I'll be quiet if you take this more seriously."_

_I cleared my throat sarcastically. Maybe if I hadn't been such a smartass…_

_"Listen up, kid. I'm one of your moms. I'm your Ma. And, apparently, some rich scientists are getting paid a lot of money to tell people that you can hear things through your Mummy's belly."_

_"Jane…"_

_I could practically hear the look of fake daggers that I shot her at that moment, followed by her laugh. Her _laugh.

_I rewind it a few seconds, then play it back. To hear it again. And again. Even when I dream of her, I never get to hear her laugh. It's like my brain can only replay those last horrible months before she left. Like the memory of her laughter is stored away in some vault that I can't access, and I'm left with the memories of watching my wife, my best friend, my _life_, become a stranger right before my eyes._

_Her laugh. I'd almost forgotten what it sounded like. How _good _it had always managed to make me feel. Back when she was happy. When _we _were happy._Together_. I let the recording continue._

_"So, now you'll get to hear me talking all day while I'm out getting the bad guys. And since _I'm _the one talking, _I _get to say whatever I want."_

_I hear myself chuckle, and then I hear another kiss. That one hadn't been on the cheek._

_"I'll start by saying that your Mum is the most incredible person I know, and she and I love you very much."_

I press stop.

And then I close the door so my babies won't hear me crying.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mama, look what we made!" Bea exclaims as I make my way into the living room.

She holds up her coloring book, her favorite one with a hundred pages of zoo animals for her to doodle on, and shows me a bright pink blotch of color overtop of the distinct outline of a giraffe. Underneath the pink, I can see little patches of brown, where my Ma had been patiently coloring within the lines while Bea scribbled over all of her hard work.

But she's so proud of that pink giraffe that I can't help smiling.

"Great job, HoneyBea. Make sure you sign your name so I can put it on the fridge."

She nods enthusiastically and picks up the pink crayon to scribble a giant letter "B". Then, she hands it to my Ma and waits patiently while she carefully signs "Gramma." Satisfied, she grins up at me and takes me by the hand, leading me over towards the kitchen drawer and opening it up for me to take out the scissors.

"Don't cut his face, Ma!" she warns, as I carefully remove the coloring page from the rest of the book.

"Oh… Bea… you mean, don't do _this_?" I tease, re-positioning the scissors as if to cut right across the creature's long neck.

Her eyes sparkle as she giggles. She knows I wouldn't dare.

I lean down to kiss her on the top of the head as I hand her the coloring page, putting the scissors back into their drawer while she goes to wait patiently by the refrigerator. I scoop her up into my arms and we look for a spot among the other decorations that adorn the appliance. Among the other drawings and coloring pages, photographs and magnets, reminders and emergency contacts.

"Here!" she decides, pointing at an empty spot between a photo of her sitting on my lap down at headquarters and a coloring page of a blue monkey.

I grab one of the alphabet magnets, the letter "B" just for her, and stick the picture onto the fridge with a smile. She stares at it proudly, then looks over at me and wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing tightly as I gently rub her back.

A jealous cry from across the room draws my attention, and I look over to see that Jacqueline has been awakened from the impromptu nap that she'd taken inside of her playpen. She's standing up now, hands gripping the edge and looking at me tearfully while an imprint of the teddy bear she'd fallen asleep on top of is still evident on her face. I kiss Bea and put her down, and she runs over next to the playpen to talk to her little sister while I make my way over.

"Don't cry, Jax. Mama's coming," she reassures her, reaching her hand up to rest it on top of her sister's.

"Mama, UP!" Jax calls to me as I approach the two girls.

"Thank you for helping, Bea," I say with a smile to my oldest before reaching down and lifting her sister out of the playpen.

"Okay, Jax. Mama's got you."

I place a few kisses along her cheek until her frown turns into a smile, then I sit down on the couch with her as Bea hops up onto the cushion next to me.

"Will you read to me, Ma?" she asks, holding out a small book with a smiling cartoon puppy on the cover.

I glance at my watch.

"I don't know if I have time, sweetie. I need to get back to work soon, and we still haven't eaten our lunch yet."

My Ma stands up from the chair she was sitting in and heads towards the kitchen, pausing to pat me on the shoulder as she walks by.

"I'll get lunch ready, Janie. Go ahead and read to your girls."

I look up to smile at her, to thank her.

"Thanks, Ma," I say quietly, and she nods at me and makes her way out to the kitchen.

I turn to the book in Bea's hand and take it gently from her, re-positioning Jax so she's cradled in my right arm while the book is between me and Bea on my left.

"Okay," I say, clearing my throat as I struggle to turn the page with the same hand that's holding the book.

"I'll help, Ma!" Beatrice exclaims, reaching over to flip to the first page.

"Thank you, sweetie. Now… The farm makes Speckle very happy. He likes to chase the ducks."

Jax reaches across me to point to the ducks, smiling happily at me as Bea looks over at her and makes a quacking noise. We all laugh for a moment, and then Bea and I join together in a chorus of duck sounds, watching happily at the joyous amusement on Jax's face.

"Kak, kak," she imitates, laughing and pointing at the ducks.

Bea turns the page.

"He likes to chase the cows… but they don't move very fast."

"Mooooo!" Bea exclaims, causing Jax to squeal with delight.

Another page is turned.

"He likes to chase the kittens. And he likes to chase the pigs, too."

I press my nose up against Jax's cheek and give a little snort, and she squirms around laughing and swatting at my face.

"Ma, look!"

I look over at Bea, and she's pulling her nose up to make it look like a snout.

"Your face'll stay that way if you keep doin' that, sweetheart!" Gramma warns from the kitchen.

Bea turns to look at me, eyes wide with concern, and I chuckle. I hand her the book for a moment and make the same face, and her smile lights up the room.

"Like this, Gramma?" I call out to my Ma, who rolls her eyes with a shake of her head.

"I swear, Janie… you're no older than those two little girls."

"I'm not little!" Bea pouts, straightening up and measuring herself next to me. "I'm almost as tall as Mama's shoulder!"

"You _are_ getting pretty big, Bea," I tell her, "but you still get to be my little girl for a while, yet. Okay, kid?"

She considers this for a moment, then nods her head and grins.

"Okay, Ma. Since I'm still your little girl, will you finish reading to me?"

I laugh and reach over to turn to the next page in the book.

"He loves chasing the farm animals, but Speckle's favorite thing to do is…"

I pause before turning to the next page, looking over at Bea and raising my eyebrows expectantly.

"Chase _me_! Chase _me_!" she exclaims as she flips the page to a picture of the puppy running across the field after a smiling young girl.

I nod with a chuckle.

"… chase _you_!"

I reach over with my free hand to tickle her, grinning broadly as she laughs and squirms away from me to go put the book back onto its shelf.

"Jo!" she yells, looking around the room before calling again, "Joooo!"

Jo Friday runs out into the living room and lays down for Bea to give her a belly rub, and I stand up to go help Ma in the kitchen, stopping to put Jax into her highchair when I get there.

"Come get me, Jo!" Bea squeals as she takes off running, with the little white fur ball in hot pursuit.

"Slow down, Bea. You know you're not supposed to run."

She flashes me a guilty look before slowing down and shuffling over next to me, bending down to pet Jo before taking a seat at the dinner table.

As I sit down next to her, I notice that she's staring down towards the other end of the table. But I can't tell what she's looking at.

"What're you starin' at, munchkin?" I ask her quietly, leaning down to try to see things from her perspective.

She turns and looks at me with those big, hazel eyes shiny as if she's going to start crying again. And when she speaks, I know why.

"That's where Mummy sits," she whispers, pointing towards the empty chair.

I try to smile at her, despite the flutter in my heart from her words. Despite the lump that instantly forms in my throat, still all too ready to make another appearance after our recent discussion about Maura.

The room is quiet, and I can feel my Ma's gaze land on me as she waits for me to speak.

"You're right, HoneyBea. That's where Mummy used to sit."

I place my hand on her back and wait for the tears to come, but they don't. She just sniffles and looks down at her lap, hands folded neatly as she sighs and whispers,

"I wish Mummy was sitting there _now_."

And I don't want to make things worse… but the next words are so very true that I can't stop them from coming out.

"Me too, sweetie," I say, planting a kiss on the top of her head and pulling her gently against my side.

I glance up and meet the saddened expression of my Ma before quietly adding,

"I wish she was here, too."

* * *

The next few hours at work go by quickly, a blur of interviews and paperwork that will inevitably lead to more interviews and more paperwork in the upcoming days. But it's all part of the job. A job that, somehow, even without her, I still love.

But that doesn't mean it's the same.

I remember the first day I came to work, knowing that she wouldn't be here. I remember accidentally pressing the down button on the elevator and walking into the morgue with a smile on my face. And how quickly that smile faded when I saw Susie's pained expression, and remembered that this was no longer a place of refuge for me. Because this was no longer where _she_ was.

I cried in the bathroom for half an hour before Korsak told me to go home and come back the next day. I didn't leave, though. I dried those tears and I got to work and I pretended like it didn't feel as if every one of my cells was crying out in agony. And at the end of the day, I went home and I hugged my baby girls extra tight and we watched Beauty and the Beast until none of us could keep our eyes open.

Every day got a little bit easier, but it was never the same.

Today, though… after hearing her voice for the first time in over a year… today felt like one of the first. As I fill out reports and look over files, I find myself once again missing her occasional interruptions. The way she always seemed to know when I needed a break, and would come see me with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a reassuring touch in the other.

I miss letting my hand linger on her hip as she finally left to get back to work, and watching as she walked out the door, swaying her hips just a little more than usual because she knew I was looking.

God, I just miss her so much.

And so, despite how much I love my job, I welcome the end of the workday with open arms. I slip my blazer on and head out to my car, reminding myself that I need to stop at the bank on the way home.

The line is long, but I don't have any more cash with me, and I don't like to be without. I don't like using the credit card when I don't have to, and being too lazy to go to the bank isn't a good enough excuse for me. So I wait in the line, until I finally get to pull up and slip my debit card into the atm. I get my cash, I wait for my receipt, and just as I'm about to pull away, my jaw nearly hits the floor.

"What the-?"

I stare at the receipt. It can't _possibly _be right. I was just here a week ago, and there is _no way_ there was this much money in the account before.

_I think I would remember making a_… I do the math quickly in my head… _a twenty _thousand_ dollar deposit. I really don't think I would have forgotten something like that._

And yet the numbers would suggest otherwise.

I pull away from the window and slip into a parking spot, receipt in hand as I make my way into the shiny interior of the bank. Eyes are on me, and I know it's the end of their work day, too, but this can't wait. I have to sort this out before I start worrying about it.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" a young, female teller asks me with a smile.

I return the smile and walk up to her, gently sliding the receipt over to her along with my driver's license.

"I just made a cash withdrawal from the atm outside, and there seems to be some sort of error with my current account balance. I did the math, and it seems to be…" I lower my voice, "over twenty thousand dollars more than there should be."

Her eyes widen, and she picks up the receipt to study it carefully, sliding my license back across to me after verifying that I am the woman in the picture.

"Let me just check that for you, Mrs. Rizzoli."

_Detective_, I think to myself, but I don't bother to correct her. It doesn't matter.

I watch closely as she types away at her computer. After a few seconds, she smiles and hands the receipt back to me.

"There was a deposit made three days ago to your account, Mrs. Rizzoli. Twenty-four thousand dollars, transferred into the account by your wife. Perhaps she forgot to tell you."

Everything around me seems to stop as I hear those two words: _your wife_.

"I'm… excuse me, did you say my _wife_ deposited that money?"

My heart is thumping furiously now, and I can hear it in my ears even though everything else seems to be out of focus. My mouth has gone dry, and I find myself wondering how I had even managed to choke out the question that I'd asked.

The teller appears a bit flustered at my confused expression, so she checks back into the computer to confirm her report.

"Yes, ma'am. The other name on your account, Maura Isles. She made the deposit from one of our branches out in Holyoke. Would you like me to call and verify the transaction?"

I shake my head, forcing a smile to my face before turning and practically stumbling out of the lobby. When I get to my car, I climb in and lock the doors as my mind races. My chest is tight, and it almost feels as if I can't breathe, so I force myself to slow down and take in a few deep breaths before turning on the vehicle.

And my gaze lands on the little black CD case sitting on the passenger seat, where I'd put it so that Bea wouldn't try to listen to it again. And before I know what I'm doing, I've slipped out one of the discs and inserted it into the CD player in my car. I'm not sure if I'm ready to hear her voice, to feel it echo through every inch of me again… but I press the play button anyway.

"_So… what am I supposed to say? I don't really understand what you want me to talk about here."_

"_Jane, you can say just about anything-"_

"Anything_? I can honestly say whatever I wa-"_

"_No, you didn't let me finish. I was _going_ to say that you can say anything that would be _appropriate_ for a young child to hear."_

"_So… I shouldn't say fu-"_

"_Jane!"_

_I hear my own laughter, but not hers. Probably because she would've been glaring at me with that annoyed smile. It was always one of my favorites. The way that she would pretend to be irritated, even though I knew she loved every minute of it. Just like I loved every bit of her._

_And then, just for a second, I hear her quiet chuckle in the background._

"_When our child ends up in the principal's office for using the F-word in kindergarten, I will make sure that _you _are the one who goes to that parent-teacher conference, Jane," she scolded._

_And I responded with, "It would be my pleasure."_

_There is silence for a few seconds, and I imagine the scene as it played out. Maura rolling her eyes at me while still flashing me that beautiful smile, and me just looking at her. Taking her in. Loving her so much that it actually hurt sometimes, the way my heart seemed to swell and press against my sternum just from catching a glimpse of her. Maura always insisted that that was physiologically impossible… but I think she felt it, too. Or, at least I _used _to think so._

"_I need to pee. Stop it for a sec," I hear myself say, followed by the ruffling of fabric as I stood up and the sound of footsteps as I walked away._

_And then, a whisper._

"_Your Ma will be back in a minute, love. But I wanted to say hello to you while she's in the restroom. Or… I suppose you would call it the 'potty,' once you're old enough to speak. I wanted to tell you how great of a mother she's going to be to you. She already loves you so very much, and I know she'll only love you more once we both get to meet you. I love you, too, and… I hope I'll be as good of a mother as your Ma will be. She's strong, and brave, and kind… and the _best_ cuddler. She's wonderful, and I love her more than I ever thought possible. And I can't wait for you to be a part of our family, little one. We can't wait to meet you."_

_I hear my footsteps approaching and the scuff of my boots against the floor as I sat down cross-legged._

"_Okay, now… where were we?" I asked._

"_We were discussing which one of us is going to bail our child out of prison because of the potty mouth you raise them with," Maura joked._

"_Oh, you are _hilarious_, Maura," I teased back. "So, kid, apparently Mummy has already decided that you're heading down the path of the rebel. I'm thinking I might as well just start you off with a few interesting words that I've picked up along the-"_

The tape cuts off for a few seconds, and I almost shut it off until another sound comes through the speakers.

_She's laughing again, and I can hear my own quiet laughter in the background, hidden beneath the warm undertones of her soothing chuckle._

"_I'm sorry! I really thought you were going to start swearing, and I don't want that to be on the recording!"_

"_Well… to be fair, I _was_ actually going to say one. Just to see what you'd do."_

"_You are so ridiculous, Jane. I hope you realize that."_

_My laugh gets a little louder, and then I hear a few sloppy kisses landing somewhere on Maura's skin._

"_We can do that later," she whispered, probably unaware that the microphone would still pick up the sound._

"_Oh, we _will_," I replied, and I can imagine all too clearly the smirk that I can guarantee was on my face as I said it._

_But at least it got her to laugh again. And that was all I ever wanted to do._

"_So… maybe I'll tell you a story, kid," I said after a few seconds._

"_I like that idea. But keep it clean, please."_

"_Oh, have a little faith, Mummy! I know exactly what I'm doing!"_

_I lowered my voice to a whisper._

"_I have no idea what I'm doing."_

I shut off the tape and look down at the receipt in my hands, noticing that they're trembling so much I can barely read the small print. But I haven't forgotten what it says.

I sniff and close my eyes, taking in a deep breath before opening them up again and shifting the car into gear. I back out of the spot and pull out into the road, on my way home. And the whole way, I'm thinking about it. About the money. About the tapes. Mostly, just about Maura.

And about the fact that I could get to Holyoke in just under two hours.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for your support so far with this new story! I'm very excited to get to work on it, and I really appreciate all of you taking the time to read and leave your feedback. Thanks, and be sure to let me know what you think!**

* * *

She told me not to look for her.

When she left, she told me that I needed to just let her leave. That I shouldn't look for her.

_Fuck that_, is what I'd said.

I looked for her. I looked every single day. At first, it was more like every single hour. Everything that I could think of, I did it. But I think she knew that I would look. So she didn't leave anything for me to find.

It's amazing how easy it is to disappear when you have enough money to make it happen.

Maybe it wasn't because of the money. Maybe it was just because she's so damn smart. Doesn't really matter. The point is that I couldn't do it. I couldn't find her.

_Some detective._

Eventually I started only looking once a day. Once every few days. Once a week. And then I just stopped. When it became abundantly clear that she really wasn't coming back, that she really didn't want to be found, that she really didn't want anything to do with me… that's when I stopped looking.

That was months ago. And now…

I pull the car up into the driveway and stare at the front door, willing my limbs to open the car door and carry me over to it. But they don't want to move. They're not ready to carry me into that house, where everything still reminds me of her.

Where even my children are painful reminders of the beautiful woman that used to love me.

I love my girls with every bit of my heart… but sometimes looking at them nearly brings me to tears. And I wonder if they ever notice.

As I'm staring at the house, the door cracks open just a little and I see the smiling face of my little HoneyBea peeking her head out and around the door handle, waving as she balances her tiny, bare feet on the threshold. I raise my hand and wiggle my fingers, forcing a smile to my face before opening the car door and stepping out.

"My feet are cold, Mama!" Bea giggles, hopping back and forth from one foot to the other as she shivers in the doorway.

"Close the door, sweetie. I'll just be a minute."

She nods and follows instructions, latching the door behind her as she disappears inside.

Once she's gone, I let the smile drop from my face. I turn back towards the car and my eyes land on that CD case again. I'm not sure why, but I grab it, holding it in my right hand as I shut the car door with my left and head towards the front door, turning the unlocked handle and slipping into the warmth.

"Bea, could you come back over here for a second, please?" I call.

She bounds over from the living room, her honey blonde hair rippling as she slides to a stop in front of me. I kneel down to speak at eye level with her, and she wraps her little arms around my neck with a squeeze as she kisses my cheek.

"Sweetheart, you know you're supposed to keep the door locked," I say gently.

She pulls back and frowns at me.

"But you were right there, Ma!" she protests, eyes wide as she realizes that she's in trouble.

But she isn't. Not really.

"I'm not mad at you," I say, smiling at her as I gently squeeze her shoulder. "I just want to keep you safe, okay? I have my keys. Just make sure you keep the door locked."

I kiss her on the top of the head as I stand up, and I can feel her eyes on me as if she's waiting for me to change my mind and punish her.

"You're not in trouble," I can't help laughing as I run my hand through her hair, messing it up and causing her to scrunch up her nose at me as she uses her own little hands to put it back in place.

Satisfied, she smiles up at me and links her hands in front of her, staring up innocently at me as she watches me walk over towards the living room.

I pretend not to know what she wants.

"Why are you lookin' at me like that?" I ask, throwing up my arms in mock confusion.

"Ma_maaaa_," she laughs, hopping over towards me and stretching her hands up. "Pleeeease?"

I give an exaggerated sigh, rolling my eyes with a smile on my face as I set the black CD case onto the counter next to me. Then I scoop her up into my arms and place her atop my shoulders, holding onto her legs as I feel her hands gripping my hair.

"Where's Gramma?" I ask her as she settles down against the back of my neck.

"Changing Jax," she responds. "Gramma says Jax will learn to use the potty soon!"

I gently squeeze her legs as I bend my knees to bounce her a little, smiling at the happy giggles that I hear coming from her mouth.

"Gramma's right. Your little sister is just about as old as you were when you learned how to use the potty."

My feet are starting to carry the two of us up the stairs to find Gramma and Jax when she asks,

"Did Mummy teach me? You and Mummy?"

I nod my head, letting it give me only a moment's pause before continuing up the stairs.

"Yes. Mummy and I both taught you… but I think Mum probably helped more than I did."

I chuckle to myself, remembering when Maura kicked me out of the bathroom for trying to teach Bea an alternative way to say that she needed to go number two. I had only been kidding, of course, but Maura was constantly reminding me that Bea only needed to hear a word _once_ before she would start parroting it back 24/7. She was smiling at first, and probably would have let me stay except that only a few seconds later, as Bea successfully used the potty, our smart little girl looked down and declared _'Mummy, piss!'_

And of course Maura knew where she had learned that word.

I was laughing so hard that I barely even noticed her pushing me backwards until the bathroom door was closed with me on the other side of it.

"But she won't teach Jax," Bea observes quietly from her seat atop my shoulders, bringing me back to the present.

"No, sweetheart."

I pause for a moment, considering how best to continue. I know she doesn't realize how much these questions hurt. I know she's just figuring things out, putting them together, trying to understand.

"That just means _you'll_ have to help me teach her," I say finally, turning to look up at her with a smile.

As we reach the top of the stairs, I see my Ma emerge from the girls' room down the hall with Jax in her arms. Jacqueline's face lights up when she sees me, and she throws her left hand up in the air to wave at me. I grin back at her, reaching out with one hand to grab hers as I bend my knees enough to kiss her on the top of the head.

"Mama!" she squeals.

"Hi, sweetie. Did you have fun with Gramma?"

She nods and smiles, and I lean in close enough for her to smack her lips clumsily against the side of my face. As I straighten my legs back up, I glance in through the open doorway next to me. Into the yoga room. The one room in the house that no one ever goes into.

And I think of her.

Ma must see it on my face, because she breaks the silence by asking,

"Gramma's ordering pizza for dinner. Bea, why don't you come downstairs with me and help me decide what to order?"

"Okay, Gramma! We should get pepperoni!"

I reach up to lift Bea off of my shoulders, kissing her on the cheek before setting her down on the ground.

"Hold Gramma's hand going down the stairs," I tell her absently, nodding to my Ma before walking back towards my bedroom.

Once I've stepped through the doorway, I reach into my pocket and pull out my receipt from the bank.

_Holyoke_.

She told me not to look for her.

But I'll be damned if I ignore this.

I take a seat on my side of the bed, grabbing my laptop from its current location on top of the nightstand and pulling up the lid. Then I open up my web browser and let my fingers hover awkwardly as I decide what to type. I can't hear anything but the quiet sound of my computer fan as it struggles to keep itself cool. That, and the excessively loud beating of my heart.

_What if I find her?_

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, leaning my head back to rest it against the headboard for a moment before letting out a lungful of air and opening my eyelids. I type her name.

_Dr. Maura Isles_.

But I turn my eyes away from the screen before the results have loaded.

I stand up and walk to the other side of the room, staring at my open laptop from across the room as I kick my boots off across the floor. And I take another breath, thinking that it will alleviate the strange tightness settling over my chest. It doesn't.

I make my way back over and take a seat on the bed, lifting the computer back up onto my lap and staring down at the screen.

And it's right there.

Right in front of my eyes.

My stomach seems to do some weird somersault as my eyes scan the page.

She _works_ there. In Holyoke.

It's right there.

_Office of the Chief Medical Examiner. Holyoke Office. Dr. Maura Isles and Dr. David Paulman, Forensic Pathologists._

She works there.

I close my mouth, which I hadn't even realized had been hanging open, and swallow in a failing attempt to restore hydration to my tongue. There's a news article near the top of the page with her name in the headline, so I click on it.

_Holyoke Opens Doors to Welcome Former Chief Medical Examiner, Dr. Maura Isles._

Dated one week ago. One week.

Somehow I find this moderately relieving. Knowing that she hasn't been working right under my nose all this time. Knowing that if I had kept looking, I probably still wouldn't have found her before now.

Or at least that's what I tell myself.

But then another thought occurs to me, sending a rush of anger up through my body and flooding into my cheeks.

Dr. Pike.

Certainly Dr. Pike would have known about this staffing change, and yet he neglected to mention that my _wife_, his former boss, was working as an M.E. in Massachusetts again. As if I needed another reason to dislike the man.

It takes every ounce of my self-control not to pick up the phone and call him right then. For a moment, I even hold my phone in the palm of my hand, staring at the illuminated numbers on the screen and deciding whether or not to hit the call button.

But I don't.

I'll save it for the morning. For tomorrow.

_Sleep on it, Rizzoli. Tomorrow you'll decide._

Decide what? I'm not sure. I think in my mind I've already come to a very predictable conclusion. I can't just ignore this.

I can't.

But if I wait until the morning, maybe it will seem less… desperate?

I close the lid to my laptop and set it back atop the nightstand, taking a deep breath and trying to calm the tremor in my hands before heading downstairs to have dinner with my girls. And with my Ma.

My family.

* * *

I want to be asleep.

I roll over to look at the clock. 1:15 am.

I want to be asleep. But my brain won't turn off.

Even when I close my eyes, I can feel that they aren't tired. My muscles have sagged down into the mattress, weakened from fatigue and ready to fall asleep. But my stubborn brain won't let them.

I keep replaying my conversation with the bank teller. Replaying the moment I looked down at my computer and saw her name next to the Holyoke M.E.'s office. Replaying the last conversation I had with her before she left.

I'm trying to turn it off, but I can't.

I glance over towards the nightstand and reach across to pull open the drawer, staring down at the black CD case that somehow seems to have started all of this. Of course I _know_ that Maura was working in Holyoke before Bea found this thing. Of course I _know_ that she made that bank deposit before I listened to the first recording.

But it's too much for one day. Too much to block out. Too much to sleep.

I open the lid on my laptop, pulling a disc out of the CD case and slipping it into the drive on my computer.

"_I was thinking I would tell you a story about the best day of your Mum's life," I hear my voice declare._

"_Oh… do you mean the weekend when you and Detective Frost had to travel upstate to interview a victim's family member, and I didn't have to listen to your teasing for a full 24 hours? Do you mean _that_ day?"_

"_Oh, ha ha, Maura. Very funny."_

I chuckle to myself, clapping a hand over my mouth so my quiet laughter won't wake the girls as they sleep across the hall.

"_Mummy likes it when I tease her, kid. She pretends she doesn't, but she does."_

"_Whatever helps you sleep at night, Jane. You just keep telling yourself that," Maura chuckled, probably shaking her head and rolling her eyes at me. "So, what exactly, may I ask, are you claiming as the best day of my life?"_

"_You _may_ ask," I teased, "and I _know_ for absolute _fact_ that the best day of your life was the day when you and I went snowboarding together for the first time."_

"_Oh, _God_, Jane. No_. _You are _not_ telling that story here. That is not something I would like to relive."_

_My laughter booms across the speakers._

I quickly reach over and turn the volume down, hoping that the girls hadn't been disturbed by the sound.

"_Maybe _you_ don't want to relive it, but _I _sure as hell do. Okay, kid, so… I took your Mum to go snowboarding for the first time a few years ago. Before I knocked her up."_

"_Jane! _Really_?"_

I can't help smiling, hearing her imitate the same sarcastic response that I'd used on her a million times.

"_Okay, _technically_ I didn't really knock her up. I guess you were knocked up by… science?"_

"Really_, Jane? Does that make you feel better? To say I'm knocked up?"_

_I hear myself humming in agreement, followed by the distinct sound of a playful kiss._

"_Damn right it does," I declared. "'The Great Dr. Maura Isles, Knocked Up by a Lowly Detective in the Workplace Scandal of the Century.' Sounds like a great tagline for a movie. I'd certainly go watch it."_

"_I wouldn't."_

_I gasped in mock horror._

"_Maura! I'm hurt! You wouldn't want to watch a movie of me getting you pregnant in an office scandal?"_

"_That doesn't even make sense, Jane. You couldn't possib-"_

"_You wouldn't want to watch a movie of us making a baby?"_

There's silence for a few seconds as Maura seems to process what I just said, and I can't help the smirk that appears on my face imagining the way that I had probably wiggled my eyebrows and grinned at her as her jaw opened just slightly in shock.

"_That is a conversation… which we will discuss _privately_. And _not_ in front of our child."_

"_Okay, okay. So… that's a yes, then?"_

"Jane_," she laughed._

"Mama? Is that Mummy again?"

I jump a little at the unexpected sound of Bea's voice drifting over from the doorway, and I quickly reach up to turn off the audio.

"Yes, sweetheart. That's Mum," I respond quietly, patting the bed next to me.

She runs over and hops up onto the duvet, crawling across the bed and snuggling down next to me under the covers.

"Did I wake you up?" I whisper, tucking my arm around her and leaning back down against my pillows.

She shakes her head.

"No. I just woke up. Can I sleep here, Ma?"

I smile and kiss her on the top of the head, pulling her against my side.

"Sure thing, kid," I whisper.

"Mama?"

"Hm?"

"Can we listen to Mummy while we fall asleep?"

I'm quiet for a few seconds, and then she adds,

"You said after you listened, maybe then I could."

I almost tell her no, but as I look back over at my laptop, and think of her voice coming out of it as I play the audio recordings, I realize that I'm going to say yes. Not for Bea. But because _I _want to fall asleep listening to Maura's voice.

It does occur to me that I probably shouldn't. It crosses my mind that it's probably a bad idea. But I don't care.

"Okay, Bea. But only if you _promise_ to actually sleep. Okay?"

"Okay, Ma!"

She leans up to kiss me on the cheek before I reach over to hit play on the audio again. Then, as I settle back down against the pillows, she curls up next to me in a little ball and closes her eyes obediently.

"_Right, right, so… the story. The snowboarding. You're gonna love this, kid. There aren't many things that your Mum isn't good at, but snowboarding is _definitely _one of those things. She has the _worst_ balance of anyone I've ev-"_

"_Jane, my balance was _not_ the problem. The problem was that my instructor, who also happened to be my _wife_, didn't see fit to teach me things until I'd already fallen flat on my face from a lack of knowledge. You're making me look bad. Can I at least just defend myself before you make me look completely incompetent?"_

"_Well… I think you kind of made _yourself_ look pretty incompetent on those slopes-"_

_I hear her quiet laughter against the sound of her playfully hitting me on the arm._

"_-but I guess I'll let you tell your side first. But if you lie, I'm telling the kid when I spot hives."_

"_Okay, deal," she chuckled._

"I like her laugh, Mama," Bea whispers, turning her head to peer up at me with a timid smile. "She laughs pretty."

I feel that lump coming back up to my throat again as I smile back down at her, nodding my head. The audio continues in the background, but right now I'm just focused on my little girl.

"I like it too, Bea. She has the prettiest laugh."

Beatrice considers this for a moment, then whispers,

"Do you think she'll laugh? When we see her again?"

"_I hadn't figured out how to steer myself properly! You forgot to mention that before shoving me off down a mountain!" I hear her laugh in the recording._

It isn't lost on me the way Bea says _when_ and not _if_. But I don't have the heart to correct her.

"I hope so, HoneyBea," I whisper.

And I mean it.

_I really hope so._


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm very grateful for all of your feedback on this story so far! I'll be trying to get out updates pretty regularly; I would estimate probably once a week, maybe twice depending on what my time allows. Thank you so much for reading and for leaving your reviews- they really are encouraging and appreciated! Please continue letting me know what you think, and I hope you continue to enjoy the fic!**

* * *

I wake up to see a pair of round, hazel eyes staring intently back at me.

They are not the ones that I had been dreaming about.

"Where do you go, Mama?" the owner of those eyes whispers.

Maybe it's because I'm too tired, but I have no idea what she's asking me. My eyes close again and I shove my face down into my pillow, attempting to wake up my brain enough to converse with my daughter. I try to ask her what she means, but the end result comes out as more of a low, unintelligible grumble.

"When you _sleep_, Ma. Where do you _go_?" she presses, a little louder this time as she scoots her face even closer to mine than it already had been.

She seems unsatisfied with my momentary silence, waiting only a few seconds before adding,

"Sometimes I go to Gramma's. One time, she helped me fly. But I couldn't when I woke up."

_Dreams. Dreams. She's talking about dreams._

"Sometimes Mummy is there, too. And sometimes she colors with me, and sometimes she lets me pet Bass."

I turn my face away from the pillow to look over at her as she continues to watch me with a broad smile and wide eyes.

"Where do _you_ go Mama?" she asks me again.

"To sleep," I answer with a tired grin.

"_Nooo,_ Ma," she protests, frowning at me.

And when she looks at me like that, I know I'm going to give in to her request. I sigh and glance over at the clock, knowing that no matter what time it is, she isn't going to stop talking until I answer her question.

6:15. We have to get up soon anyway.

"Okay, Bea. Okay. Let's see," I rub at my eyes, pressing the heel of each hand against them for a few seconds to try to wake myself up. "I, uh… sometimes I go to Gramma's, too. And Uncle Frankie and Uncle Tommy are there."

"Do you play with them?"

I laugh quietly and reach over to pat her arm.

"Sorta, I guess. We usually watch TV, and Gramma tells us to keep our feet off the furniture."

Bea giggles and grabs at my hand with her little fingers, running her pointer finger gently across the scar on the back.

"Does Mummy ever watch TV with you? When you're there?" she asks quietly, without looking up at me.

"Sometimes," I say with a nod. "But… usually when I'm with Mummy, I'm not at Gramma's. Usually we're here, with you and Jax."

Bea seems to be excited by this answer, dropping my hand and smiling happily at me.

"Sometimes I see you when I sleep, too, Mama!" she exclaims. "You and Mummy play with me, and sometimes… sometimes you hold my hands when we walk and Mummy kisses me here."

She points to her cheek, still smiling at me. I lean over and place my own lips there for a second, smiling back at her and selfishly hoping that the conversation will end.

"Do you think Mummy visits us when she sleeps?"

I'm sure my smile falters for a second before I answer her, and I have to clear my throat before I do, just to make sure that my voice still works.

"Well, sweetie… I'm sure she probably does, sometimes."

She looks as if she's going to ask me something else, but I don't have the willpower to keep coming up with answers to her questions about Maura. Not today.

"Can you go brush your teeth, please? We need to get you and Jax ready for daycare."

Bea sticks out her lower lip in a pout.

"No Gramma today?" she asks sadly.

"No, Bea. It's Tuesday. Daycare today."

She sighs and crawls out of my bed, her bare feet hitting the wooden floor and padding quietly out into the hall. Her bathroom door closes and latches, and I roll myself out of bed and into my own bathroom for a quick shower and a probably inadequate brushing of my teeth. Then I grab some clothes from the closet and put them on quickly, throwing my hair back into a ponytail and making my way across the hall to wake up Jax.

But Bea has beaten me to it, and she's standing next to her sister's crib chatting away.

"… and she said that next time I could help hand out snack at snack time. And today is next time because she said- Mama!"

She looks over at me when she hears me enter the room, then runs over and wraps her arms around my leg.

"You were in the bathroom, so I woke up Jax because she was sleeping."

"That was very helpful, Bea. Thank you," I say, patting her gently on the head as I carefully make my way across the room with her still attached to my leg.

I lift Jax up out of her crib and carry her across to the changing table, at which point Bea detaches herself and pinches her nose shut.

"You can go wait in my room, if you want," I chuckle as I reach for a clean diaper.

She nods and runs across the hall while I finish changing Jax's diaper and getting her dressed for the day in a pastel pink dress that she points at when I open up her closet.

"Bea, are you already dressed?" I call across to her, unable to remember what she was wearing when I came out of the shower.

I hear her shoes hit the floor and walk across the hallway, and I already have the answer to my question before she makes it over to me with a proud smile on her face.

"Yes, Ma! See? Look!"

I smile at her, my lips turning up even more when I take notice of the t-shirt she's put on herself.

"Feels like a Sox day, huh?" I ask with a grin.

She nods excitedly, pulling down the bottom of the shirt with one hand and pointing at the letters with the other.

"It says 'Red Sox', right, Mama?" she asks, looking back up at me.

"Sure does. Remember when we got you that shirt? At the baseball game?"

"That was fun! And we got to eat hotdogs!" she exclaims, glancing over at Jax and giggling. "But Jax cried alllll the time. She didn't like it."

I laugh and kiss Jax on the cheek.

"No, she didn't. But maybe one day she will." I look down at Bea's little sneakers and notice the loose shoestrings with a frown. "Bea, you know you're not supposed to walk around with your shoes untied. You could trip and get hurt."

She looks down slowly, then back up at me with her smile gone.

"But… I don't know how to tie them."

"I know you don't, but you should wait until I can help you before you put your shoes on. Okay? Wait for me to help you next time," I say as I set Jax down on the floor and kneel to tie up Bea's shoelaces.

"Tight enough?"

She nods.

"Thank you, Mama," she whispers.

"You're very welcome, HoneyBea," I reply with a smile and kiss.

Then I pick Jax back up and take Bea's hand to take them downstairs for a quick breakfast before hitting the road.

Cereal. Always cereal. All three of us, a box of Cheerios, and a carton of milk. Every day.

And then we're out the door, the two little ones strapped begrudgingly into their carseats in the back and me trying not to grimace at the sing-along children's music playing through my speakers. It's a short drive, but it always feels long, thanks to that ridiculous radio station. Today is no exception.

By the time I drop them off at daycare, I've usually got ten minutes to get to work and grab coffee before I'm officially on the clock. But today, I've purposely dropped them off a little early. Today, I need to pay a little visit to the morgue before 8:00 rolls around.

* * *

Coffee in hand, I push into the autopsy room and look around for Pike. Susie sees the scowl on my face and instantly pales, nodding her head over towards Pike's office and practically scampering off into the crime lab to avoid speaking to me.

_Et tu, Susie?_ is the only thing I can think of as I watch her go.

And I begin to wonder who else knew.

This brings back the anger that had been simmering below my surface since last night. Brings it back to a full boil, and I can practically feel my skin growing hot.

"Pike!" I practically growl as I approach the door to his office, stopping in the doorway until he turns to face me.

"Detective Rizzoli, it's a little early for you to-"

When he finally turns and catches the look in my eyes, I see him involuntarily twitch backwards, leaning back in his chair so that he is literally as far away from me as possible. But I don't intend on keeping the distance very long.

I take a few steps into the room and slam the door behind me, setting my coffee down on what used to be my wife's desk and crossing my arms in front of me so I don't do anything stupid with them. I'm not worried about getting violent, of course. But stupid? Yeah, definitely.

"Why… _the hell_… didn't you tell me?" I ask him, my voice barely coming out louder than a whisper. A soft snarl that I _know_ gets my point across.

I see his Adam's apple move as he swallows nervously, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose while taking a deep breath. Then he looks up at me and shakes his head.

"Well, _obviously_, I was worried about how you would react to the news," he says, raising his eyebrows and motioning to my incredibly friendly and inviting posture.

I can almost feel the wrinkles forming on my face as my scowl deepens.

"How long have you known that she was going to be working in Holyoke?"

He shrugs his shoulders at me, as if this is an unnecessary question. As if it doesn't matter that I haven't seen her in a year, and he knew, and he didn't _tell me_, and now she's back and-

"_How long_?" I growl. "Would you have even told me? Would _anyone_ have _ever_ told me, if I hadn't found out from the goddamn _bank_?"

My voice has raised enough for him to scoot his chair back a little in discomfort, holding his hands up in self-defense.

"I have only known for a few weeks. Lieutenant Cavanaugh, to my knowledge, is the only other individual in the homicide department who is aware of the staffing change. He decided it was better not to tell you right away, lest you react in a rather…" He paused, raising his eyebrows, "… _unbecoming _manner."

I pick up my coffee cup so quickly that it trickles out through the opening at the top, burning my hand and dripping onto the floor. But I barely even feel it as I storm out and punch the button for the elevator. And I head straight for Cavanaugh.

As with Pike, he knows exactly why I'm there before I even say a word.

"I wondered how long it'd be before you came in here to see me," he says quietly, motioning for me to sit down.

But I'll be _damned_ if I sit myself down for this discussion.

"Why would you do this?" I ask him, trying hard to stay angry so I don't let the feeling turn into one of utter betrayal. "Why wouldn't you _tell _me?"

He sighs and shakes his head, leaning forward to rest his hands on his desk as he looks over at me.

"I was going to tell you. But I needed to let Dr. Isles get settled in over at her new position first. I knew you'd react like this, and I didn't want you scaring her away from the job. We need her there, Rizzoli."

"Scaring her-?" I can't even finish the thought. It was ludicrous. "Why would I scare her away from the job? I've been trying to _find_ her, Cavanaugh! For a _year_!"

"So you can do _what_, Rizzoli? _Hm_? I know this past year has been difficult for you, but you need to understand that she _left_. And she didn't come back. It isn't my place to delve into your personal affairs, but it _is _my place to keep your personal affairs from impacting this department. That is what I've done."

I'm so angry that I almost don't feel anything at all. Anything but the burning blood pumping through my veins. When I open my mouth to speak, I'm almost surprised at how emotionless the words sound.

"I'm taking a personal," I state simply, turning on my heel and going for the door.

"Jane-"

I turn and meet his gaze, _daring_ him to tell me not to go._ Daring_ him to challenge me. Because he and I both know that he can't stop me. Can't. Won't.

I pass Frost on my way out of Cavanaugh's office, and the smile on his face when he sees me quickly disappears as he reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder.

"Jane, are you okay?" he asks, following me as I head for the elevator.

He follows me through the doors as they slide open, and it isn't until they slide closed again that he notices the hot tears running down my cheeks. Hell, _I _don't even noticed them until I reach up to wipe them away and see the look of fear in his eyes.

This isn't normal. Not for me. And he knows it.

"Jane, what is it? Talk to me."

I lean myself back against the cold interior of the elevator and pause to catch my breath, closing my eyes for a moment and then snapping them open again when I hear the elevator doors opening. My partner steps out and reaches his hand back to me, which I stare at silently for a few seconds before taking it and following him down the hall to an interrogation room.

"Am I under arrest?" I joke with a raspy chuckle as he closes the door and takes a seat next to me.

"Not yet," he says back, giving me that famous Frost smile.

He just watches me silently for a few seconds, waiting for me to speak. Trusting that I will. And I do.

"She's in Holyoke," I whisper without looking up at him.

I'm still not looking at him, but I can hear the creaking of his folding chair as he shifts his weight. I can hear him let out a sigh as he decides how to proceed. When I raise my head to finally look at his face, I find his eyes gently locked on mine, searching for something else.

"She's working there. At the M.E.'s office. And Cavanaugh didn't tell me."

At this news, the gentleness disappears from his eyes completely. His face shifts as anger seeps into every crevice. He stands up quickly and heads for the door, but I call out to him before he reaches it.

"Don't, Frost."

"_Don't_?" he questions, confusion mixing with the anger on his features. It briefly occurs to me that I don't think I've seen him this angry before. Ever.

"It won't do any good."

"I don't give a damn what good it'll do! Cavanaugh had no right to keep something like that from you!"

"You're right," I say with a nod, "but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter now. It's done."

He looks for a moment as if he's about to further protest, but instead shakes his head with a sigh and comes back over to join me at the table.

"You're just going to let that go?" he asks quietly.

"Oh, _hell_ no," I shoot back, my own anger flooding back quickly. "I'm not just going to forget what he's done. But right now… right now I've got more important things to deal with."

Just like that, the anger is gone again. And replaced by… replaced by something else entirely. If I didn't know better, I'd almost call it fear.

But I'm not scared.

I'm not scared of Maura.

Am I?

"What are you going to do? Have you… have you done anything yet?" he asks me.

"Besides yell at Pike at Cavanaugh?" I joke, my smile just barely visible at the corners of my lips.

Frost bears one to match as he shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

"Well, that was kind of a given," he replies.

"I haven't… I haven't spoken to her or anything. Not yet. But… I told Cavanaugh I was taking the day off."

"That's good," he says with a nod. "You should go relax a little. Clear your head. Figure out what you-"

I interrupt him with a shake of my head.

"I already know what I'm going to do, Frost. I'm going to go see her. Today."

"Jane, I don't think that's a good idea," he protests. "You haven't given yourself time to really process this. I mean… what are you going to _say_ to her? What are you going to say when you see her? What are you going to do if…" His voice trails off and he looks away from me for a moment, clearing his throat and scratching absently at the top of his head for a moment before softly adding, "Jane, what if she doesn't want to see you?"

It wasn't as if I hadn't already considered this possibility. But it wasn't going to stop me. Not after all this time. Not after I'd finally managed to find her.

"I don't care if she _wants_ to see me, Frost. I really don't. She's _going_ to. I'm not giving her a choice."

He laughs uncomfortably for a moment, as though he thinks that I might, just possibly, be joking. But we both know that I'm serious, and when this realization finally hits him, he shakes his head incredulously at me.

"Wha- I mean, how exactly do you expect to manage that? You want to… you want to bring her down to the station and make her talk? Maybe we could play a little good cop, bad cop?"

He waits for me to respond, but I don't.

"No, wait. I've got a better idea. You could pretend to be a corpse, and wait til she's about to cut you open. Right? Am I on the right track here? You want to _make_ her talk to you? That's what you're telling me?"

He pauses again, but I think he knows I'm not taking his bait. He sighs and reaches over to take my hand.

"Jane, you _know_ how Dr. Isles is. She's no pushover. If she doesn't want to talk to you, you can't just _make_ her. You _can't_. If you try… it might make things worse."

"Make things worse than _what_, Frost?" I snap, yanking my hand away. "Worse than my daughter asking every day where Maura is? When she's coming back? Why we can't go see her? Worse than waking up every morning and wondering where the hell my wife is? My best friend? _She left me_, Frost. She _left_. There isn't anything she could possibly do to me that's worse than that."

I push my chair back from the table and storm over to the door, and before I've reached the lobby, I feel my partner's presence at my back again.

"If you're really doing this, Jane, then you know I'm going with you," he says quietly.

"Like hell."

"I'm _serious_," he says, louder this time.

He grabs me by the arm and turns me to face him, not backing away from the anger in my gaze as it burns into him. Because he knows that it isn't just anger that's making me do this. And _this_… this understanding… this is why we've been partners for so long.

"I'm not letting you drive halfway across Massachusetts when you're like this, and there's no telling what you're going to be feeling like after you see her. _If_ you see her at all."

I open my mouth to protest, but he glares at me and shakes his head.

"I'm driving you there, and I'm bringing you back. End of discussion. I just need to go tell Cavanaugh."

"I'll go start the-"

"Oh, no you're not," he says, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me over towards the elevators. "I'm not giving you the chance to leave without me."

As angry as I want to be with him… I simply can't. And an annoyed smile turns up the corners of my lips despite my efforts to the contrary.

"Then I'm coming into Cavanaugh's office with you," I counter as we board the elevator.

His brow lowers as he asks, "Why?"

I smirk at him and cross my arms.

"So you don't try to knock him out."

It's only a second before a smirk of his own forms, and he nods in agreement.

"Fair point."


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all so much for the support and for all of the wonderful feedback you've given me for this fic! I have to say, this story sits very close to my heart, and I hope that you will hang on for the journey with me. Please continue letting me know your thoughts, and I will do my best to get updates out as much as I can. Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, and I hope you continue enjoying the story.**

* * *

"We can't just drive two hours in complete silence, Jane," Frost finally says to me, after we've been on the road for the better part of an hour.

_Watch me_, I think to myself.

But when I turn and look over at him, seeing the concern in his eyes, the worry, because of _me_, it draws the air out of my lungs almost before I've even made the conscious decision to speak.

"It's been a year," I hear myself saying quietly.

Of all the words that have been floating through my mind so far this morning, I am surprised that these are the ones my mouth has chosen to speak. I am surprised that these words were deemed important enough to voice. I look to Frost, expecting his face to reflect my own confusion, but instead, he simply nods.

"It has," he responds.

I sigh and look away from him.

The anger from this morning has long since passed through my system. I don't think of Cavanaugh. I don't think of Pike. I'll deal with them another day. Right now, I'm overwhelmed by another feeling. It leaves no room for anger, no room for thoughts of anyone other than Maura. I try to voice it to my partner, but I don't know what to call it. And even if I did… I'm not sure I want him to know exactly how I'm feeling. I'm not sure I want him to worry that much more.

It feels as if I am falling.

No…that isn't quite it. It feels as if I am _about_ to fall. I am briefly reminded of the cartoons I used to watch as a child, where characters would be moving so quickly that they wouldn't notice they'd run over a cliff until it was too late. They would hover in the air for a few seconds before gravity would, as is the law of nature, claim them. And when they looked down, seeing the air beneath their feet and the ground far below them, when they finally realized their imminent destruction… that is when they would fall.

Sometimes a similar feeling visits me when I fall asleep at night, just as I'm beginning to drift off. In the very shadow of what might become a dream, I feel myself begin to fall. My eyes snap open as my body jolts itself awake, I suck in a quick breath, and I eventually realize that I am safe in my bed. I am not falling. But in those fragments of a second before I've awakened, that momentary feeling of panic is so very real.

It is this momentary feeling of dread that engulfs me as I sit next to Frost. Only it is not momentary. It is persistent. And it is suffocating.

"Jane?"

I turn to look back over at Frost again, whose look of concern has deepened considerably even just within the last few minutes.

"We can turn around," he offers, in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

But he knows even before he says it that this is not truly an option.

"No. We can't."

The resolution in my voice is unmistakable. He nods.

"Do you want to talk about anything?" he asks, after letting the silence settle. "Do you… do you have a plan? Or anything?"

I shrug my shoulders, and I return my gaze out the window next to me.

"It's weird," I say as my eyes skate over the vehicles we're passing. "I must've thought about what I'd say to her a thousand times. But I never imagined it happening like this."

"Like what?" he presses gently.

I glance over at him, forcing myself to smile even for the briefest of seconds.

"I guess… I guess I never pictured myself actually going after her. I always thought she'd just come back. I thought she'd come home."

I realize as I say it how pitiful those words probably make me sound, and I let out a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. Disgusted with my own idiocy.

"_Stupid_," I mutter, shaking my head.

"Stop it," Frost commands, the gentle tone now absent from his voice. "You are a lot of things, Jane, but stupid is _not_ one of them. She _loved_ you. That was real."

"I _thought_ it was real."

"It _was_, Jane. It was. It's not stupid to believe that someone who loves you will come back to you. You're not stupid. And what you're doing? Going after her now? This isn't stupid either. This is _you_, Jane. Brave. Loyal. It's _right_."

It's as if his words bounce right off of me. I hear them, but I don't _feel_ them. They don't stick. I'm not doing this because I'm brave, or because it's right. I'm doing it because it's all I have left. I'm doing it because I haven't let her go. I _can't_.

I'm the opposite of brave.

I'm _scared_.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say to her?"

I shake my head, swallowing back the painful lump that's trying to settle into my throat.

"I'm trying not to think about it," I say without looking at him. "It's just Maura, right? I'll just talk to her. It's just Maura."

I feel a slight pressure on my left hand, and I look down to see Frost's hand covering my own. My eyes make their way up to his, and he simply nods his head as he squeezes my hand. Then he pulls away and returns both hands to the wheel.

"It's going to be okay, Jane. Whatever happens."

He turns to look at me and forces a smile. I can tell he's forcing it because it doesn't come anywhere close to reaching his eyes. But I force myself to smile back anyway.

"It's going to be okay," he says again.

I want him to be right. I want so desperately to believe him, but I can't help feeling as if I'm racing towards that cliff. I can't help feeling as if the ground will soon disappear from under me. As if it's only a matter of time before I fall.

But I can't stop running.

Because I know that somewhere up ahead, she's waiting.

* * *

It's strange, how I wish that the car ride would last longer than it does. I realize that I've prayed for this day more times than I could count. And now, here I am, staring up at the brick exterior of the building where I know she works. Where she is probably working at this very moment.

"Should I have called first?" I whisper, turning to look at Frost as he takes the keys out of the ignition.

"Would you have still come if you had?"

I don't know the answer to this question, so I don't respond to it. Instead, I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment in an attempt to concentrate on bringing air into my lungs.

"Are you okay?" Frost asks quietly.

I open my eyes and nod my head decisively. I am okay. I must be okay. There is no other option.

So, I open the car door and step out into the parking lot, shoving my hands into my pockets and heading for the main entrance. Frost's footsteps are soft against the ground behind me, but I do find it comforting to know that he's there. When we reach the door, my fingers wrapped around the handle, I turn to look at him.

"Thank you for coming with me," I say sincerely, unable to manage the smile that I wish I could give him.

He's able to manage one for me, though.

"You're welcome."

I pull the door open before I can change my mind and make my way into the colorless interior of the office. The secretary looks up at me with a polite smile as I walk in, and I feel Frost's hand patting my shoulder before he scoots behind me to take a seat in one of the unoccupied chairs lining the walls of the room. He looks over at me as if to verify that this is indeed what I want for him to do, and I nod. Then he picks up a magazine and begins flipping through it.

I take a few steps over towards the secretary's desk, giving her the best smile I can pull off, and knowing that it probably doesn't look exceptionally convincing. But she doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm looking for the M.E.'s office," I tell her.

"Okay, I'll just need you to sign in here and take a visitor's badge. Then you'll be off down that hallway to your left, and you'll be looking for suite 115. They have their own secretary in there that can help you further."

"Thank you."

I take the pen she offers me and fill in my name, the date, and the time. Then I grab a sticker and carefully place it on my blazer. With a final smile to the secretary, I walk off down the hall and search the numbered plaques for suite 115.

My heart flutters for a moment when I see it, and I notice that I'm holding my breath as I pull open the door to step into the suite.

"Can I help you?" a voice asks quietly from a desk to my right.

I turn towards it and a take a few steps across the room to speak with the young woman, whose eyes seem to land immediately on my badge.

"Yes. I'm looking for-"

I hear a pair of heels faintly clicking against the floor behind me and my words catch in my throat.

_It could be anyone. She isn't the only woman who wears heels, dumbass_.

But when I turn around, I know that I was right.

She's looking down at the contents of a manila folder, reading carefully as she walks over towards the secretary's desk. And she hasn't seen me yet.

But I see her.

Oh, God, is she beautiful. It hits me like a freight train, and I can't breathe for a moment as I just stare at her. I can't move. Can't speak. I can only look at her.

Her honey blonde hair lays perfectly, as it always does. Looking so effortless, never betraying the time that she has always spent making those waves look so irresistibly soft and inviting. They dance across the top of her lab coat with each step she takes, bouncing lightly without falling out of place. She reaches up to tuck a strand behind her ear, shoving it out of her line of vision as her eyes are focused downward on the contents of the folder in her hands. She's mouthing the words to herself as she reads the report, which knowing her is probably something that she is proofreading for the thousandth time before officially filing it away. Her mouth is almost smiling as she reads it, and I feel the corners of my own turn up involuntarily to match.

A brief memory of the last time I saw her flashes through my mind, and it seems to compare itself with the woman in front of me. That woman had looked so tired, so detached, so… done. Done with _me_.

But _this_ woman, _this_ Maura, _here_… she has quite literally taken my breath away.

And then she looks up, and her eyes land on mine, and everything stops.

I see the flickers of emotion behind the surface of those eyes. Surprise. Confusion. Fear. In wishful thinking, maybe even a bit of happiness.

"Jane," she says quietly, the hint of a smile quickly disappearing from her lips.

It is in this moment, hearing her say my name, that I snap out of the trance I seem to have fallen into. She is here. She is beautiful.

But she is not mine. Not anymore.

And I feel myself suddenly becoming angry. How can she look so beautiful, after what she did to our family? How can she stand in front of me looking better than I remember, _happier_ than I remember, after what she did to _me_?

I know she sees the emotion shift on my face even before I manage to choke out her name.

"Maura," I hear myself saying, as if my voice is projecting it from somewhere else in the room.

I hear it. I know it's me. But her name sounds foreign on my lips.

"Come with me, please. To my office," she instructs, reaching over to drop the folder in her hands onto her secretary's desk.

I nod and follow her quietly, feeling a strange lightness in my limbs as if maybe this isn't real at all. And I wonder if this is simply another dream.

But I don't recall ever being angry with her in my dreams.

She closes the door behind me and takes a few steps back, just looking at me in complete silence. Then she smiles at me. A sad smile.

My heart pounds.

"It's… it's good to see you," she finally says, barely a whisper.

_You're the one who fucking _left _me. You don't get to say that._

"Yeah."

She frowns a little when I don't return the sentiment, but she doesn't seem surprised by it.

"I didn't know you were coming."

"Well, I didn't know you were _here_," I snap before I can stop myself.

"Please don't," she sighs, looking down to where her hands rest inside the pockets of her lab coat. "I know you're upset with me, but please try to calm-"

"Don't you _dare_ tell me to calm down, Maura," I interrupt, my voice sounding unmistakably louder than I intended. "Where the hell have you _been_? What have you been doing for the past _year_ that you couldn't even be bothered to tell your _family_ about?"

She raises her eyes back up to mine, and even through my anger I can still see the bright red of the vessels surrounding those hazel irises. She's going to cry. And this, for some reason, makes me even more angry.

But when she speaks, it doesn't betray the tears that have yet to fall. Her voice is steady. Calm.

"I can't talk about that with you, Jane. Not now," she says firmly.

"Oh, okay then," I sneer, a disbelieving chuckle forcing its way out of my chest. "I'll just make an appointment with your secretary. You just let me know when it _suits_ you."

"Jane. Please. Just… I can't."

A year ago, my resolve would've fallen apart hearing the desperation in her voice. But not today.

"Can't or won't?" I shoot back.

She appears to seriously consider this question for a moment before quietly responding,

"I suppose… won't."

Her answer silences me for a few seconds, and she eventually takes a deep breath and adds,

"Jane, I don't want to fight with you. Please. Try to calm down so that we can just talk."

"Talk about _what_? You just told me you aren't going to tell me where you've been, so what the hell else is there for us to talk about?"

"Maybe you could tell me why you're here?"

"Well, then, maybe _you_ could tell _me_ why I found twenty-four thousand dollars in my bank account that I was informed my _wife_ deposited a few days ago?"

She nods and clears her throat, glancing down at her feet for a few seconds before looking back up at me.

"Of course. You're here about the money."

"Um, _no,_ I'm here _because_ of the money."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

As she asks me this question, it's clear that she really believes it. She really seems to believe that I've come all this way _just_ to ask her about the money. I sigh deeply, and some of my anger seems to leave my body with the air that I exhale. I shake my head, closing my eyes for a brief second before looking back up at her and speaking, gently this time.

"Maura, I didn't come here just to talk about money. I found out you were here because of the deposit you made to the bank. They told me which branch you'd deposited it from, and then I found out you were working here. I didn't… I'm not here _about_ the money. I'm here _because_ of it. You see the difference? I came here for-"

I stop myself before I say _you_, but I know she'll figure that part out on her own anyway. She does, and she gives me another one of those sad smiles as she nods her head slowly.

"I see. I… well, I suppose I realized that I… you may appreciate some assistance. For the girls. I hadn't left you with much in the way of money when I… when I left."

She pauses here, seeming to gauge my response. I can only imagine what my facial expression must look like, because her eyes widen fearfully and she quickly adds,

"I knew you wouldn't accept it if I tried to give it to you, so I just put it into the account."

"You were trying to pay me for taking care of our daughters?" I ask, incredulous. Trying to keep my anger in check.

"No, Jane, I'm not trying to pay you off. I just thought they might need-"

"What they _needed_ was their _mother_," I say through gritted teeth. "I don't need your damn _money_."

"I know you don't, Jane. I know you don't," she says, pulling her hands from her pockets and holding them up in an attempt to pacify me. "But… please. Keep it for them."

I don't even hear her last request. My eyes are glued to the rings on her left hand.

It feels like someone has punched me directly in the sternum, and I think for a moment that I'm going to be sick.

_Someone else. Oh, God… she's with someone else._

And then I take a closer look and I realize that I recognize those rings. I recognize the engagement ring that I was so proud to buy her, and I remember the look on her face as she said "yes" through her tears. I remember the words that are engraved on the inside of that wedding band. The one that matches mine.

I should feel relief. I should feel happy that she isn't with someone else. Shouldn't I? But seeing her wearing those rings, for some reason… all I feel is anger.

This can't be the same woman I married.

That woman never would have left me behind.

"What are you doing?" I ask her, my voice so quiet that it scares even me. "Why did you do this?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but I don't give her time to. And my voice starts rising again, a physical representation of the anger sinking its claws into me.

"Do you have any _idea_ what it's been like? I _loved_ you, Maura. I loved you so much, and you _left_. You just left me. Left our _family_."

"Jane, I-"

"I'm not done."

It comes out as a growl, and her mouth closes as quickly as it had opened.

"You abandoned your children. Do you realize that? _Do _you? Just decided you were done with me, so you were done with them, too?"

The first tear slides down her cheek, but the words don't stop coming.

"Bea still asks about you. All the time. She still _misses_ you. She doesn't understand why you wouldn't come back. Doesn't understand why we couldn't just come get you. And Jax… Jax probably won't even remember that you _existed_. You left your _baby_. You left _all_ of us."

By the way the tears are flowing more continuously down her face now, I know she has already considered all of these things, but I can't stop myself.

"You were so _fucking_ worried that you were going to be a terrible mother, and it turns out you were _right_."

Even as those words leave my mouth, I know I shouldn't have said them. I regret them, and yet at the same time, I'm too angry to care. She's sobbing now, and there's a part of me that wonders why I have no desire to wrap her in my arms and take her pain onto myself. A year ago I would've done anything to see her happy. I would've done anything to keep her from feeling anything this terrible. But now… I turn to the door and grab the handle, opening it and moving to leave.

Before I step out of it, I turn to say one last thing.

"Take off the damn ring, Maura. And call your lawyer. You're _not_ my wife."

As I slam the door shut behind me and walk out, I wonder if she'll come after me. I wonder if she'll tell me to stop, to turn around, to come back. Sometimes that happens in the movies, and for the briefest of moments I try to decide if I would listen to her if she actually called my name. But I don't have to come up with an answer. She doesn't come after me.

I walk out of the suite and down the hall towards the entryway in such a haze that I walk right by Frost without even seeing him as he stands up and follows me out into the parking lot. It occurs to me that I'm not even sure what kind of haze this is. It doesn't feel like anger anymore. It doesn't feel like anything.

The only thing I can think of as I cross the parking lot is an image of Wile E. Coyote hanging in midair after he's just run over the edge of a cliff. And as I climb into Frost's car, I don't see the character anymore. I see myself.

Frost starts the car.

I look down.

And I start to fall.


	6. Chapter 6

**I just want to say a quick thank you for all of the positive feedback you've been giving me for this fic! I was really blown away by the response to the last chapter, and I'm happy to have another one ready for you. I know there are a lot more questions than answers at this point, but I promise that they will all be addressed in time if you're willing to stick around. As I said before, this story is one that is very close to my heart, and I hope that it will be welcome in yours. Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, and please continue letting me know what you think of this fic.**

* * *

I'm not crying.

I'm not speaking.

I'm not even sure if I'm actually breathing.

Thoughts rip through my brain like bullets, so fast that I barely have time to recognize one before another takes its place. Too fast for me to do anything other than sit there and get hit by each one as I'm reminded over and over about what just happened. Each projectile is a snippet of the conversation I just had, penetrating my skull and lodging itself directly into my brain. They won't stop repeating themselves. Won't stop reminding me of the things that I said to her. Things that I can't take back.

I'm falling.

The ground that had been beneath my feet for so long is gone now after just one conversation with her. The foundation that I had spent months rebuilding after she left, destroyed in one single blow. It feels like that first day all over again. I have no control. I have no way out.

I'm falling.

And then I feel Frost's hand as he reaches out to catch me.

"Jane? _Jane_?"

I blink and look over at him, realizing after a second that we are in the car. He is driving; his right hand clamped like a vice around my left arm while his other hand grips the steering wheel far more tightly than necessary. My lungs forcefully expel the air that they had been holding, and then they fight against me to fill themselves again. I hadn't even realized that I'd been holding my breath.

I take in so much air at one time that it burns the inside of my chest for a few seconds before my breathing seems to fall back into its regular pattern, and I close my eyes as the barrage of thoughts dies down with the gentle pressure of Frost's hand pulling me back to the present. But as I'm pulled back to the present, I feel something that I did not expect. I try to fight it, but I know that I will lose.

"Frost, pull over," I command as I sit up straighter in my seat and grab for the door handle.

He does so without question, and the car has barely come to a stop before I am out the door and on my hands and knees by side of the road. I don't hear the driver's door open or close over the sounds of my own heaving, but I know that it must because after a few seconds I feel my partner's hand running up and down my back. He does not say a word, but he is there. He waits with me.

And when my stomach has settled, probably only because it has nothing else to offer up to the grass, I sit back and look over at him. He hands me a bottle of water and a stick of gum, waiting patiently while I try to erase the horrible experience from my mouth as I try to erase its precipitating event from my memory. Only one of these attempts is successful.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with me?" I ask him quietly.

It is at this point that the tears come. Here, in the grass by the side of the highway, in front of my partner for the second time in one day.

"I should have listened to you," I mutter, shaking my head as I wipe the salty droplets from my face. "I shouldn't have come here. It was a mistake."

He's quiet for a few seconds, and I'm not sure if he's waiting for me to continue or if he's deciding whether or not he wants to speak. I turn to look at him and he finally breaks the silence.

"What happened back there, Jane?" he asks quietly.

"I fucked up, Frost. _That's_ what happened."

I can feel him staring at me as I sniff and wipe at my eyes again.

"I don't know what I was expecting, coming up here," I say, looking back to my partner and throwing my arms up in bewilderment. "What the hell was I _expecting_ to happen? I mean… _Jesus_, Frost. She's been gone for a year, and I just… I thought I could… I just made things so much _worse_. I wish I never even knew she was here."

He shakes his head slowly, sadly, before locking his eyes back on mine.

"I know you think that now," he says gently, "but at least you know that she's _okay_. That has to be better than wondering-"

"No, it _isn't_ better," I snap at him, instantly regretting my tone and shaking my head with a sigh. "Sorry," I mumble.

He nods, smiling at me so I know we're good. And then I continue.

"At least before, I… I thought she would have taken it hard, too. You know? And maybe if she saw me, she'd realize… I don't know… I just…" I trail off for a moment, sniffing and wiping at my eyes again as the tears begin to slow. "I didn't expect her to look so _good_. It's… it's like none of it had any effect on her at all. I spent the last year trying to pick up the pieces after she walked out, and she's standing there looking like leaving me was the best thing she ever did."

I can feel the anger sinking in again as I remember it, and Frost's face softens in understanding as he recognizes what I'm feeling.

"And you said something you regret?" he asks quietly.

I shrug my shoulders as I let out a sigh.

"I didn't say anything that wasn't true, Frost," I tell him, "but that still doesn't mean I should've said it. I just… seeing her… I just got so _mad_. She wouldn't _tell _me anything. Wouldn't tell me where she'd been or why she'd left, and I was just so _mad_ at her that it… it just came out. I told her… I told her that she's a terrible mother."

I look up at him, expecting to see some kind of disapproval for what I've just said. Some kind of surprise or disappointment that I would say such a horrible thing. But he just looks at me, and I suddenly feel the need to elaborate. I need to make him understand how awful I am. I need him to be angry with me, to be disappointed, to tell me that I shouldn't have said it, that I should apologize and make things right. I need him to understand what I've done so that he can tell me how to fix it.

"She was so worried about it," I explain desperately. "She was so scared that she wouldn't be a good mom, and that's exactly what I just told her. I shouldn't… I shouldn't have _said_ something like that. I made her _cry_, Frost. I made Maura cry. And I didn't… I didn't even _care. _I was so angry that I didn't even care. What the hell is _wrong_ with me?"

"There's nothing wrong with you," he corrects, locking his eyes on mine to ensure that I pay attention to what he's saying. "You're not the first person to say something hurtful in the middle of an argument, Jane. And you and Maura were _married_. I'm sure you didn't go all that time without arguing about one thing or another. Right?"

Memories of past arguments flood quickly into my head, and I close my eyes and nod so that he will keep talking. One horrible memory is enough for the moment; I'd rather not relive every awful thing I've ever said to her. Or her to me, for that matter.

"She _knows_ you, Jane. Whatever happened, whatever else you said… just remember that she knows you. You always used to tell me that she could see through your emotions better than anyone. I'm sure she knows you only said those things because you were angry."

"Doesn't matter. I still can't take it back," I counter. "I don't… I don't know what I thought I was going to accomplish coming up here, but I _know _I didn't want to hurt her."

"I know, Jane."

I stare down at the ground for a few seconds, listening to the cars pass by on the highway next to us. So many people with their own shit to deal with. Their own problems. Their own worlds that keep turning even as mine gets shaken to the core.

"She was still wearing her wedding ring," I say quietly, without looking up. "I told her to take it off. Told her I want a divorce."

I hear him clear his throat, and the sound of him shifting his weight against the grass where he sits.

"Is that what you want?" he asks me after a few seconds.

I look up to meet his gaze and nod.

"I didn't know I was gonna come all this way just to end it," I whisper with a shake of my head.

"Hey," my partner says to me, scooting a little closer and resting his hand on my shoulder. "_You _didn't end it, Jane. _She _did, when she walked out that door and stayed gone. You didn't come all this way to end it. It was already over. It's _been _over. You don't have to relive the past year all over again just because of one conversation, you know? You've come too far to let her do this to you again. Now you can move on. You can let her go."

I hear the words that he's saying, and I understand the sentiment behind them. I wish that I would _feel _them. I wish that I would _feel_ ready to let her go. Ready to officially write her out of my life. It would make everything so much easier to just get rid of her forever. But I keep seeing her face when I told her that she was a terrible mother. I keep seeing the tears, hearing her sobs, knowing that _I _caused that pain.

I didn't care. When I said it, I didn't care. I didn't feel anything but anger. But now… _Now_ I care. And I hate myself for it.

"I shouldn't have said those things to her, Frost," I say quietly. "I shouldn't have let myself hurt her like that."

"You know, Jane," he says with a sigh, "it's hard for me to feel bad for her. It's _real_ hard for me to feel bad about her being upset by something _you_ said, after I've watched the pain _she_ caused you and the girls over the past year. I know you loved her. I know you were her protector. But that's not your job anymore. You're _allowed_ to be angry. You're _allowed_ to be upset. Hell, you _should_ be. You're not the bad guy, here. And maybe if you take some time to think about everything, if you _still_ feel like you owe her an apology for what you said, then maybe you should give her a call. Say what you need to say and hang up. But, Jane… I really think you're being too hard on yourself. Far as I'm concerned, _she's_ the one who should be apologizing."

I don't think I'm being too hard on myself. I think I was a Grade A asshole. But I also think my partner is right; I _should _take some time to process before I do anything else. That's what I _should _have done to begin with. Before I came up here and made an even bigger mess of things between Maura and myself. I stand up and brush the grass off of my pants, reaching down to help pull Frost to his feet.

"I should have listened to you," I tell him. "It was a bad idea to come up here like this. I should have just taken the day off and figured out what I was gonna do. You were right."

"I was _right_?" he whispers in mock amazement. "Could I get that in writing?"

I look over to see the cautious smirk on his face, and I can't help smiling back and even letting out a quiet chuckle as I shove him over towards the car.

"Just get in the car," I tell him with a shake of my head, glancing back towards the distant outline of the building we just came from. I open up the passenger door and climb inside, locking my eyes on the reflection of that building in the side mirror. Then I look over at Frost and nod. "Let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

I push open the door to my empty house, breathing in the last few drops of the outside air before closing the door and surrounding myself in the scent of the home that I used to share with her. Frost had tried to convince me to let him come over, or to let him call Frankie or Tommy to come stay with me. He said I shouldn't be alone, but it's what I want. I can't have Frankie or Tommy hanging around, asking me a bunch of questions that I don't know how to answer. I don't want to deal with anyone else right now.

Hell, I don't even want to deal with _myself _right now.

I head for the fridge and grab a beer, closing my eyes as the cold brew swirls over my tongue and down my throat. And I realize that I don't know what to do with myself. I'm never home alone like this. I'm never here when the girls aren't.

I miss them. I don't want to deal with anyone else right now, but I want my girls. I want them snuggled up against me on the couch, telling me about whatever crappy snack they had at daycare. I want them laughing in my ears so loud that I can't hear whatever Disney movie we've got playing on the TV. I don't like the house when it's this empty. Too much room for my brain to conjure up the day's events. Too much room for me to hear her crying. Because of _me_.

I carry my beer upstairs, even though I've told the girls a million times not to bring drinks up here. I make the rules, though, so you can bet I'm allowed to break them. And before I've really thought about it, my hands are rooting through the nightstand and pulling out that damn CD case again. For a few seconds, I just stare at it. But then I'm pulling out one of the discs and slipping it into my computer.

I don't want to hear her crying anymore.

Maybe I'll get to hear her laugh, instead.

"_I really don't think the baby is going to care what you look like, Maura. This thing isn't a video camera, so the only way it's gonna know what you're wearing is if you describe it in detail," I hear myself chuckle._

"_I'm not concerned about what the _baby _will think of me. I'm more concerned with what _you _are going to think of me after you see these dreadful stretch marks. They've gotten quite noticeable. And besides, these tapes are supposed to be about _you_, Jane. You can do it while I finish getting dressed, and then I will be happy to join you."_

_Clothing brushed against the floor, followed by the sound of my footsteps leading away from the microphone. When the voices resume, they're quieter; farther away. I'd gone back into the closet to speak with her, but the microphone still picked up the sound._

"_Sweetheart, you look beautiful. Please come back in and do the recording with me? I like havin' you with me when I do it. It's hard to come up with things on my own."_

"_I told you I'll come in once I've-"_

"_No one's gonna see but me. Please?"_

"_Jane-"_

"_Just put your robe on. Here. Better?"_

_Even from as far away as we must have been, I can still hear her sigh as she slips into the robe._

"_Alright. But only for a few minutes. Then I really need to get dressed."_

"_Mhmm… maybe you don't, though. You look fine to me," I said, probably accompanied by a smirk._

_And then I hear it. Quiet, but still what I was looking for. Laughter. Her warm, soothing chuckle as our footsteps made their way back towards the microphone._

"_Did you leave it on?" she asked me, her voice louder once we'd resumed our positions on the floor._

"_Yeah, I think so. Too lazy to hit 'stop'," I hear myself admit, followed by that beautiful sound of her laughter once again._

"_I can't say I find that surprising," she responded. "Although, you were apparently not too lazy to take that motorcycle out for a ride this morning when you thought I was still sleeping. Was it supposed to be a secret?"_

"_Well… no. You just don't seem to be exactly thrilled about me riding it," I hear myself mumble, before I quickly added, "Which is weird, considering _you _are the one who bought me the damn thing!"_

"_I would be far more comfortable with the idea of you riding 'the damn thing' if you hadn't wrecked it within the first hour of it being in your possession. When I purchased it for you, I had no idea that you would end up in the hospital-"_

"_Aw, come _on_. Listen, kid. Your mum is being way too paranoid about this motorcycle, so don't you worry. I didn't even break anything! Just a few scrapes. I just hadn't quite gotten the handling down yet. I'm a total pro at it now."_

"_I'm sure you are," she chuckled._

I stop the tape and set my half-finished beer on the nightstand, intending to put it in the fridge for later. Right now, it isn't what I want anymore.

My bike. Suddenly I want it. I need it. To be out of this house. To be away from her voice. To be moving too fast for my thoughts to keep up with me. I shrug off my blazer and grab my leather jacket out of the closet, slipping it on over my button down and quickly changing into jeans. I look at my watch as I head out to the garage. Three hours til I need to pick up the girls. Plenty of time.

I take my hair down out of its ponytail and slip my helmet on overtop of my curls, and then I climb onto the back of my bike and guide it slowly out of the garage and onto the driveway.

I pull carefully into the street and head away from the city. I can't be here. Thirty-five miles per hour is not fast enough for me. So, I keep going.

And when I reach the highway, I take a deep breath. I smile. Here, I'm not falling anymore. Here, _I'm_ in control.

And here, my thoughts can't catch me.

I know it's only temporary. Once I slow down, they will come crashing down around me again. But for now… for now it's just me. For now it's just this.

Me, my bike, and the road.

And no Maura.


	7. Chapter 7

**I honestly can't thank you enough for all of the support I've been getting for this story. Every comment has been so encouraging, and I am truly so grateful to all of you for taking the time to read and to let me know your thoughts. I really do appreciate all of your feedback, and I hope that you continue to enjoy this fic. I promise the sky won't always be this gray.**

* * *

When she first got this bike for me, I used to smile every time I looked at it. It made me think of her. And when she first left me, I couldn't look at it for weeks. It hurt too much.

But there came a point where I just needed it. I needed this feeling.

The growl of the engine, somehow both gentle and powerful. Somehow both comforting and exhilarating. It's like a second heartbeat. Like the bike is a part of me; a part of my body that only comes alive when I hit the road. And when I'm here, when I'm on it, when this heartbeat is pumping through my veins, I feel _everything_. Every turn, every acceleration, every gust of wind. I feel _this_. Only what's happening. Only what's real.

There's no room for thoughts to get in the way. Not here.

I don't get to ride as much as I'd like to, usually. Between working and taking care of the girls, I don't have the time. But today… today, it's just what I need. To get out. To get away. To ride faster than my brain can think, and then to come back home and hold my babies.

And maybe that's the difference between me and Maura. We both needed to get away, but… me? I know I need to come back. I know I _want_ to come back. And when I finally make my way back around towards the city, finally pull back up into the garage and shut off the engine, I feel ready. Ready to go get my girls and pretend that today was just another day. Ready to scoop them up into my arms with a smile on my face, and not let them out of my sight until they're tucked into their beds and sleeping soundly.

I needed the road. I needed the wind. I needed my bike. And now I need my girls.

So, I climb into my car, quickly adjusting back to the controls of a four-wheeled vehicle, and head across town to pick them up from daycare. There's someone new working desk duty in the lobby when I get there, so I have to pull out my ID and show it to her while I'm signing them out.

"Who are you picking up today, Mrs…. Rizzoli?" she asks with a polite smile, glancing up from my driver's license to wait for my response.

"Bea and Jax."

It doesn't occur to me at the time that I should use their full names. I've picked them up on so many occasions that it's just become a routine for me, and I forget that it hasn't yet become a routine for someone so new to the job. After a few seconds of silence, I look up to see her frowning over at her computer screen. It's only then that I realize she's looking in the wrong place. She won't find them under 'Rizzoli'.

"Last name 'Isles'. Like the British," I quickly inform her.

After another few clicks on the computer, her frown changes back to a smile, and she hands my ID back to me.

"Beatrice is in room 107, and Jacqueline is in room 110. Just down this hall," she instructs, pressing a button under the desk to unlock the door with a quiet _click_.

I thank her and make my way back the hall, not even bothering to look at the numbers on the doors because I know them all by heart. And when I push open the door to 107, it takes less than a second for Bea to look over and spot me.

"Mama!" she exclaims, running over towards me with her arms outstretched.

I kneel down to catch her in a hug, kissing the top of her head before taking her by the hand and leading her over to get her jacket and backpack from her hook. We wave at Miss M. on our way out of the room, her shooting some meaningful glance at my daughter that I make a mental note to ask Bea about later, and then we head across the hall to pick up Jax.

Jax is asleep when we get there, as usual, and Bea tiptoes across the room to retrieve her sister's backpack without waking the other sleeping children. I gently scoop Jax up into my arms, smiling at the familiar face of the older woman watching over the young kids, and realizing as we quietly close the door behind us that I do not know her name. But the thought is quickly pushed from my mind when I feel Bea's little fingers wrap around two of my own as she leads me back out towards the lobby and back out towards the car.

Jax goes into her car seat first, carefully so I don't wake her up yet, and then Bea climbs up to get into hers. Once I'm in the driver's seat and pulling the car back out onto the road, I glance into the rearview and see Bea reaching over to gently grab Jax's hand, smiling over at her sleeping sister when she thinks I'm not looking. And it always makes me so happy, seeing how much Bea loves her. How Bea protects her, comforts her, helps her. I can't help smiling, feeling it.

When we get back home, Jax is finally starting to wake up from her nap. I still carry her inside, of course, and Bea carries in their backpacks and sets them over by the coat rack. Then she walks over to the couch and climbs up onto the cushions, reaching for the remote and turning on the TV while I root around in the fridge figuring out what to make for dinner.

"Can we have dinos, Ma?" Bea calls to me, standing on the couch with her little hands gripping the back as she looks over at me with hopeful, sparkling hazel eyes.

I open the freezer door to look in and find that, yes, we do have a box of dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. I pull them out and set them onto the counter, then go back to the fridge and pull out a head of broccoli. Oddly enough, it's Bea's favorite vegetable. Perhaps what's even more odd is that it's only one of many vegetables that she actually _requests_.

She certainly didn't get that from me.

As I'm loading the nuggets onto a cookie sheet and shoving them into the oven, I hear Jax's loud request of,

"Bea! Play!"

I turn to look, and Bea immediately scoots off of the couch to join her sister on the floor. In Jax's hands are two dolls that Gramma bought her a few weeks back, and in Bea's is one of the stuffed dinosaurs she begged me to buy her after watching The Land Before Time. She sends the T-Rex stomping across the floor towards Jax, and Jax makes a face, snatching her dolls away before the fake dinosaur can close his soft teeth around their heads.

"Play nice, Bea," I chuckle, turning back around to chop up the broccoli and set it to steam on the stovetop. And that reminds me, "Hey, Bea? What was Miss M. givin' you that look for when we left daycare today?"

She doesn't answer me right away, and once the food is safely set to cook without needing me to hover over it, I make my way over towards the girls to see Bea watching me somewhat fearfully. I raise my eyebrows and take a seat on the couch, patting the cushion next to me while the little blonde stands up and comes over to sit beside me.

"Okay, HoneyBea. You gonna tell me, or do I have to ask Miss M.?"

She looks down at her lap, swinging her legs against the front of the couch before whispering,

"I got in trouble."

"In trouble for what?"

There are a few more seconds of silence before she looks up at me and speaks, her voice so soft I can barely hear it.

"I kicked Conor."

I sigh and turn my body to face her on the couch, and her lower lip starts to quiver a little because she thinks she's about to get in more trouble.

"Bea, you _know_ you're not supposed to kick. Why did you do that?"

"Because… because… I was climbing, and then he was being mean, and I kicked him."

There are tears gathering in her eyes as she pleads with me, hopes that I'll understand and she won't get punished. But I don't understand yet, and even once I do, I can almost guarantee that kicking was not the appropriate response. Even so, I gently prompt her with another question.

"You were climbing?"

She nods, wiping at a stray tear as it falls down her cheek.

"Manda was crying because… because there was a spider. And I climbed on the bookshelf to get it. And then Miss M. told me to get down, so I did. But I didn't get the spider, so Manda still cried."

"And then Conor was mean to you?"

"No, Conor was mean to _Manda_. He was laughing at her because she was crying. So I kicked him, and he stopped laughing."

Ugh, Conor Donnelly. Never hated a four-year-old til I met this kid. Bea used to come home with stories about him stealing toys and being mean to the other kids in her group, but it wasn't til I actually met him at the daycare's Christmas party a few months back that I realized how much of a brat he really is. Spoiled kid, and his parents don't do a damn thing to stop him from being a little terror. Part of me wants to high five Bea for sticking up for her friend, especially because Manda is one of the smaller girls in their group and she gets picked on a lot, but the other part of me knows that just because it was Conor doesn't mean that kicking was the acceptable response to his teasing. I shake my head and frown down at my daughter, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as I talk to her.

"It was very nice of you to help Manda, HoneyBea, but that doesn't mean that you're allowed to kick people. You know better than that. What have I told you to do when Conor is being mean?"

"Ask him to stop, and tell Miss M.," she responds quietly, looking back down at her lap and away from my gaze.

"And did you tell Miss M.?"

"Yes."

I raise an eyebrow as I clarify,

"Before or _after_ you kicked him?"

She shrugs and mumbles,

"After."

I have to nearly stifle a chuckle when she admits this. I don't want her to think that the situation itself is funny, but she just reminds me so much of myself when I used to get in trouble in school. I could find loopholes and literal answers to try to talk my way out of just about anything, and I can't say I'm unimpressed at her attempt to do the same. She'll get better at it with practice, I'm sure.

I grab a tissue and hand it to her so that she can wipe her nose and her tears, and after a few seconds have passed I speak to her again.

"Next time, you need to tell Miss M. _before _you kick him. Because you should not be kicking or hitting anyone at all. It is not acceptable behavior. Do you understand why?"

"Because it's not n-nice," she says, starting to cry again.

"You're right. It isn't nice. But do you know _why_?"

She doesn't say anything, just wipes at her tears, so I continue.

"It's because it _hurts_ people, Bea. Makes them sad. Do you remember last week when Jax hit you because you took her doll? And you cried?"

She nods, peering up at me curiously while still wiping at her eyes.

"It made you sad, didn't it? And it hurt?"

She nods again, agreeing,

"Y-yes, it hurt a lot, M-Mama."

"Well, that's how Conor felt when you kicked him. I don't know if he cried or-"

"Oh, he did. H-he cried."

I fight back an amused smile so she won't think I'm condoning her behavior, and I make a mental note to sign her up for soccer next season. Then I continue,

"So, you _know_ you hurt him. And we don't want to hurt other people, Bea. Even when they're mean, like Conor is sometimes, it's still not okay to be mean back. Because other people get sad, too. Do you understand?"

She nods, and my own words suddenly take root in my chest, stopping me in my tracks. _It's still not okay to be mean back. Because other people get sad, too._ But I can't let myself think about Maura right now. Not in front of Bea. I clear my throat and try to change the subject, asking her,

"Did Miss M. give you a timeout?"

Another nod. I consider this answer briefly before sighing and reaching over to rest my hand on her back, making a decision and smiling gently down at her.

"Okay. Then I'm not going to punish you."

She sniffs and looks up at me, wiping at her eyes again and whispering,

"Really? I don't have to s-sit on timeout again?"

I shake my head.

"No. I'm not going to make you sit on timeout again. But, Bea, if I hear about you kicking or hitting anyone else in daycare, I _will _sit you on timeout. You know better than that, and _I _know that Miss M. will help you if you tell her when Conor's being mean to you or Manda or anyone else. No more kicking. Got it?"

"Okay, Mama."

After a few seconds and a few sniffles, I bend down to kiss her on the forehead.

"Can I get a hug, HoneyBea?"

She nods and scoots herself over to sit on my lap, wrapping her arms around the back of my neck and squeezing me tightly. I look down when I feel Jax tugging at the bottom of my pants, and I tilt Bea over to one side to hold her with one arm while I scoop up Jacqueline with the other.

"Come on up here, sweetheart," I say to Jax as she wraps one arm around her sister and the other around my neck. Her dark curls tickle the side of my face, snaking their way up towards my nose and causing me to sneeze. The sound startles her for a moment and she stares at me with her brown eyes wide from fear, but relaxes instantly when Bea quietly reassures her,

"It's okay, Jax. Just Mama sneezin'."

When the kitchen timer goes off a few seconds later, I don't want to get up. I just want to stay here, cuddled up with my babies. But I know we need to eat, and I really doubt either of them would be too pleased with the idea of eating charred black chicken nuggets, so I sigh and plant a single kiss on each of two small foreheads before setting them down onto the couch cushions and heading out to finish making dinner. And even though it's against our normal rules, we eat on the couch tonight. I don't care about the potential mess, I just want to be with them. Just want to sit here next to them while we watch Little Foot and his friends trek across the globe to find their families.

And maybe I'm selfish, but I don't want to put them into their beds tonight. I don't want to be alone in the dark as I'm falling asleep, because I don't want to be forced to think about everything that's happened today. Maybe if I can just go to sleep without thinking about it, I'll wake up tomorrow and it will be like it never happened. I can just pretend that it never happened. And then I don't have to deal with it. And I know it's irrational, and I guess I don't _really_ believe it, but I still want my girls with me. I want one tucked under each arm, because I know that if they're with me, I'll be strong. I know that if they're with me, I _have _to be strong.

So that's how I end up with little fingers pulling gently against my shirt sleeve at 11 pm, as I lie awake trying to concentrate on the sound of my daughters quietly breathing on either side of me. That's how I end up looking down into those beautiful hazel eyes and knowing the request before she even makes it. That's how I end up checking to make sure that Jax is soundly asleep before pulling out another of those damn CDs and slipping it into my computer, turning the sound down so that Bea and I can just barely make out the sound of her voice as she begins to speak.

"_You really don't give yourself enough credit, love. I could look at you for _hours_ and it still wouldn't be enough. You're _gorgeous_, Jane. You truly are."_

"_Ugh, stop it," I protested in a huff. "I look stupid in this dress, and this kid should be thanking their lucky stars that they don't have to see me in it. Why the hell did I let you talk me into this?"_

_She laughed quietly, kissing my cheek and kissing away my frown._

"_Because you love me. And because you know that _I _love _you_ too much to send you into a situation where you will be ridiculed or intentionally embarrassed. It's going to be fine, Jane. You may even enjoy it."_

"_Enjoy it? _Enjoy _it? Maura, I will be lucky if I _survive_ it. These are not my type of people. They're _you're-_"_

_She silenced me with a kiss, and when she spoke again, her voice contained a gentle finality that sends a chill up my spine, causing Bea to snuggle in more tightly against me._

"You _are my type of people, Jane. I will always be on _your _side, okay? I would not ask you to go with me to this event if I thought you were going to be mistreated in any way."_

"_Oh, come on, Maura. I'm not worried about them hurting my _feelings_. I just don't… I don't want to embarrass you, you know? I never do so well at these types of things. Hell, I _still_ can't use a fish knife properly."_

_She laughed again, and this time I hear myself joining her with a quiet chuckle of my own. But the laughter quickly died down, and she began speaking seriously to me again._

"_I want you to understand something, Jane. And I would like for our child to hear this, too. If it was in any way important to me to marry someone who would fit in perfectly at these events, then I would have done so. I don't care about those things, Jane. I care about_ you. _I care about the things that I get from being with _you_. Things that no one else has ever given to me the way that you have. Your time, your love, your devotion, your affection, your commitment. _These _are the things that matter, and you give me more of them every day than I could ever possibly need. You are enough, Jane. _More_ than enough. I am so very happy to be your wife, and your ability to properly wield a fish knife has absolutely no bearing on how much I adore you. I married _you, _Jane. Because I love you, and you love me, and _that _is what matters to me. Not this."_

"_Well… if this doesn't matter… can we skip it?"_

_I hear her chuckling quietly for a few seconds before the sound is replaced by her kissing me and humming contently against my lips. And then the hum turns into a word._

"_Nnnnno. Put on your coat."_

_I hear myself groan as I rose to my feet, just before the recording ends._

But I know I ended up going to that dinner with her, because I remember it. And she was right. It was fine, and I actually kind of enjoyed it, although I would never in a million years admit that to Maura. Bea is asleep now, her breath gently hitting the skin on the inside of my forearm with each exhale. And now that I'm the only one still awake, I start to think.

I start to think about how she knew all of my insecurities, and carefully reassured me against them. She knew me, and she used that knowledge to build me up. And that's what I used to do for her, too. Before all of this… this _anger_.

This anger that makes it so easy to agree with Frost. That she _deserved _what I said, because she hurt me. She hurt me, she hurt the girls, she hurt my Ma and Frost and Frankie and… she hurt a lot of people that I care about. It's easy for me to justify going to her work and yelling at her and using her greatest insecurity as my greatest weapon.

But it isn't right.

_It's still not okay to be mean back. Because other people get sad, too._

What I told Bea? _That_ is what's right.

And so, as I'm lying in the dark, I make up my mind. Whatever comes of it, I will do what is right by Maura and by my daughters.

Tomorrow, I will speak to her again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you all so much for all of the wonderful reviews and messages I've been getting! It truly is so encouraging to know that so many of you are enjoying the story. I have gotten a few requests to write something from Maura's POV- I just want to say something quickly about that because I don't want you to think that I'm ignoring the request. I did actually consider writing from Maura's POV even before I was asked to, but I'm not entirely sure of a way to do so without taking away from the story. There are a lot of things that Maura knows that Jane does not, and writing from her perspective would be very difficult to do without exposing some of those things. That being said, the further into this story I get, the more attached I get to the idea of solely telling it from Jane's POV. It would feel weird for me to write most of the story from Jane's POV and then to start switching back and forth later once everything has been kind of aired out in the open. So, I think it was a great suggestion to write from Maura's POV, and one that I did consider! But I am probably not (although not definitively) going to do it in this fic. If you have any thoughts on this, though, I'd love to hear them! Thank you all so much for reading and for reviewing! I really do appreciate all of the support you have been giving me for this story, and I hope you continue to enjoy it!**

* * *

The sound of the alarm jars me quickly from a dream that I can't quite remember. The only remnants of its horrific content are the desperate way that I'm clutching the girls against my body and the rhythm of my heart as it beats furiously inside my chest. After my eyes have reflexively scanned the room for any sign of a threat outside of my dream world, I reach over to shut off the alarm and then allow my head to fall back against the pillow once again. I close my eyes and take a deep breath in, slowly pushing the air out between my lips and focusing my attention on the rise and fall of two little chests pressed up against my sides.

"Bea?" I whisper after a few seconds, turning my head so the sound doesn't carry over to Jax. "Did you hear the alarm, sweetheart?"

A tangled mess of dark blonde hair rustles against the sheets next to me, tiny fingers grabbing at my arm as Bea pushes herself up to a sitting position and pouts at me through eyes that are still nearly closed.

"Still sleepy," she announces in a huff, shaking her head and falling over so that her face lands atop my stomach.

I can't help chuckling just a little at the sight, finding it increasingly difficult to decide whether I am more amused or worried by the striking similarities between her personality and my own.

She may look like Maura, but she certainly acts like a Rizzoli.

"I know you're still tired," I whisper, reaching a hand down to gently lift her off of me as I unwrap my other arm from around Jax and carefully sit up. "But you gotta get up, kiddo. You've got Tee Ball practice after daycare tonight, remember? If you don't get up now, then I guess you won't be able to go."

I shrug nonchalantly, knowing full well that she wouldn't miss Tee Ball for anything, and I glance over to see her watching me with wide eyes. She shakes her head and scrambles out of my grip and down over the side of the bed.

"Hey, slow down, HoneyBea," I chuckle, reaching out to pull her back over towards the bed. "I'm only teasin' a little. You gotta get up, but you have time to say good morning to your Ma first."

I grin and lean over to kiss her cheek, and she just smiles up at me for a second before whispering,

"Are you coming to my practice, Mama?"

Jax starts to stir next to me, and I glance over to see her eyes pop open as I shake my head. I gather her up into my arms and plant a kiss into her dark curls, scooting over towards the edge of the bed and getting slowly to my feet.

"I gotta work today," I say quietly, my heart crumbling a little when she pouts up at me. "But Uncle Tommy will be there. He's gonna pick you and Jax up from daycare so he can go to Tee Ball with you. And I'm gonna be at your game on Friday, so make sure you practice hard!"

This seems to please her, and she smiles at me before turning to run across the hall to her room. I follow her over with Jax in my arms, heading straight for the changing table while Bea roots around in her dresser.

"How are _you _this morning, Jax?" I ask with a smile as I grab a fresh diaper and begin putting it on her.

She ignores my question, choosing instead to stare across the room at her sister while giggling loudly and pointing. I turn around to find Beatrice struggling to pull a shirt down over her head, and I try to stifle a chuckle as I realize that she's forgotten to unbutton it first.

"Hold on over there, Bea," I say, finishing up Jax's diaper change and setting her down on the floor. I make my way over to the frustrated toddler and gently pull her shirt off, carefully undoing the buttons before handing it back to her so she can put it on herself.

"I can do it," she asserts, snatching the shirt from my hand and slipping each arm into the sleeves. But when she gets to the buttons, she tries desperately to fasten the first one and becomes agitated almost immediately when she fails. I can see the tantrum forming on her face, so I quickly go into crisis mode and my hands fly into action.

"Calm down, sweetheart," I say gently, reaching over and fastening one button, then the next. "Buttons are tricky. You'll get the hang of it eventually."

"But I wanna do it _myself_!" she exclaims, balling her hands into fists and glaring at me.

"I know you do. And you _will_. But for now, you just need a little help from Mama, and that's okay, too. Alright? So, we're not going to get angry about this, are we?"

She continues glaring at me for a few seconds, so I open up her dresser drawer and pull out a pair of socks for her to wear.

"You can do most of it by yourself, Bea," I reassure her, pointing to the pants that she's already put on herself. "It's okay to need a little help for the trickier parts, like buttons and shoelaces."

I hand her the socks with a smile, watching her expression closely to see if I've avoided a meltdown. She sits herself down on the floor and slips her feet into them with a frown still on her face, but by the time I've put on her sneakers and tied them up for her, she's calmed down enough to smile across the room at her little sister.

"Mama, Jax can't dress herself," she giggles.

"No, she can't. She's not quite as big as you, yet," I agree. But Bea shakes her head and points across the room, laughing harder now at something that I can't see.

"_No_, Ma," she laughs. "_Look_!"

I turn around to find Jax standing inside the open door of the girls' closet, yanking furiously at the bottom of a mint green dress as it wobbles back and forth on its hanger. Just as I stand up to go help her get it down, she manages to pull hard enough for the dress to slide off and send her tumbling to the ground. My heart skids to a stop as I rush across the room and peer down into a pair of wide eyes that stare up at me, gauging my reaction as tears gather around their edges. I can tell just from looking at her that she's okay, and the relief brings a smile to my face as I bend down next to her and gather her into my arms, gently rubbing her back in an attempt to keep the tears from falling.

And I do.

"You're okay, sweetie. Just had a little fall, but you're alright," I tell her.

And it must be true, because after a few seconds she pulls out of my arms and goes back over to retrieve the fallen garment, thrusting it into my hands with a proud grin.

"This is what you wanna wear today?" I ask her, waiting for her official confirmation.

She nods and points back down at it, so I help her put it on and then grab her dress shoes from the closet and slip those onto her feet, too.

"Hair!" she declares suddenly. She points up at the dark mess of curls atop her head and stares expectantly at me, as if she's made some request that I should immediately follow. But I have absolutely no clue what she wants from me.

"Yes… that's hair," I respond, trying to hide my confusion.

Her brown eyes leave mine for a moment and focus on something next to me, and that's when I realize that Bea has walked over to join us.

"You want your bow, Jax?" she asks, resulting in an excited smile and nod from the youngest.

Bea runs across the room and pulls a headband from her jewelry box, bringing it over and handing it to me. I turn it over in my hands and see the little bow on the top, carefully slipping it onto Jax's head and earning a delighted giggle.

"Thanks, Bea," I say, giving her arm a gentle squeeze before rising to my feet.

She responds by smiling happily up at me, with that dimpled grin that reminds me so much of her mother. And even as I look down at her, thoughts of Maura causing me to remember all too clearly what I need to do today, I can't help smiling back at her. Can't help smiling as she looks over to Jax and wraps her arms around her little sister, pressing tiny lips against the soft cheek of a tiny face. Can't help smiling, because _these _are my girls.

And whatever happens, we will be okay.

* * *

That confidence goes out the window when I sit down at my desk and pull up the website for her office. Just seeing her name on the screen causes my stomach to churn uncontrollably and my chest to constrict around the organs it's meant to protect.

"You okay, Jane?" Frankie asks as he cautiously approaches my desk with a cup of coffee in his hand. He glances at the one I'm already holding, then proceeds to set another cup on my desk anyway. "Can never really have too much," he explains in a voice that is barely more than a whisper. And it is at that moment that I realize he knows something he should not know.

"Did Frost tell you?" I ask him, unsure of whether it is anger or relief that I'm feeling.

But he shakes his head and kneels down next to my desk, looking around the room nervously before leaning in closer and whispering,

"_Nobody_ will tell me anything, Janie. Not even you. I gotta hear it from someone else that you and Frost skipped out on work yesterday after getting into it with Cavanaugh, and then I come in this morning to find you sitting here lookin' like _this_?"

He raises his eyebrows as his hands motion towards my face and posture, expecting a response that I'm not sure I'm ready to give. But I find myself doing it anyway.

"You can't tell Ma," I command, waiting for him to nod in agreement before sighing and continuing so quietly that I'm surprised he can actually hear me.

"I found Maura."

I look over to see his entire face go pale and his eyes widen in shock.

"Is… is she…?"

"She's alive, if that's what you're asking. And she's fine. Perfectly fine, as far as I can tell. Working at the ME's office over in Holyoke."

He looks down at the floor for a brief second as he processes the information, then looks back up to ask me,

"And you went to see her, didn't you?"

"I did," I say with a nod.

"And she's not coming back?"

"She is not."

I can't explain why those words feel like they're choking me as they pass through my lips, reverberating through my throat as it seems to close around itself and squeeze every last drop of air from my lungs. But I close my eyes and take in a deep, slow breath.

Frost was right.

The time to mourn our relationship has long passed.

I can't let her do this to me again.

_I will not._

"Janie… are you okay?"

His voice is so gentle, so full of concern and of love that it nearly brings me to tears for a moment. After I'm sure the feeling has passed, I nod and point towards my computer screen, causing him to shift his attention to the content of the webpage that I have been staring at for the past few minutes.

"I was gonna write down her work number so I could call her on my lunch break," I inform him with a shrug, grabbing a pen and a sticky note from my top desk drawer and following up on my assertion. "I kinda… lost my temper a little. When I saw her. And I wanted to apologize."

He doesn't say anything in response to this, but I can almost hear the wheels turning in his brain as he watches me intently. Before either of us can speak again, Frost comes through the office doors and makes his way over towards me with confusion plastered across his face.

"I didn't… really expect you to be in today," he admits, nodding at Frankie in a subtle greeting.

"Yeah, well. Gotta work," I shrug. I look up to see him glancing nervously down at Frankie and I quickly add, "It's okay. I just told him."

My partner visibly relaxes with this information, and it's only then that he finally notices what I have pulled up on my computer screen. He shakes his head and steps towards me, his brow lowering in a mixture of concern and bewilderment.

"What are you doing? I thought you were going to take some-"

"I took all the time I needed," I interrupt, hoping to cut him off before he successfully manages to talk me out of what I _know _I need to do. "I know you don't think I should apologize, but I _have _to. It doesn't matter what she did to me, Frost. I had no right to treat her the way I did. I shouldn't have let myself go in there unless I knew I could act like an adult. And, clearly, I couldn't."

"What did you say to her, Janie?" Frankie asks, pausing only briefly before continuing to speak. And with each word, anger grows across his facial features, his voice rising steadily from barely a whisper to just above his normal speaking volume. "What did you say to her that warrants an apology, after everything she put you through? After a _year_, what the hell did she expect-"

"_Frankie_," I interrupt, watching as my brother immediately falls silent under my commanding gaze and tone, despite my almost inaudible volume. I glance over at Frost, then back at my brother with a sigh. "I appreciate what both of you are saying. I really do. It means a lot to know that you both have my back, and I don't take that lightly. But this is something that I need to do. So, _please_. Just let me do it."

I look back over at my brother to see that his expression has softened once again as he watches me.

"And, Frankie, you can't tell anyone. Okay?"

"You know I won't," he says quietly, almost offended that I felt the need to voice such a demand. "But Ma's gonna find out eventually. When she does, it'd _better _be from you."

I nod, knowing he's right, and he stands up slowly from his crouched position beside my desk, planting a quick kiss on my cheek and gently squeezing my shoulder before heading for the door.

Once my brother has disappeared into the elevator, Frost locks his eyes on mine and asks,

"So, you're going to call her _now_?"

I glance down at the sticky note in my hand, reading carefully over the numbers that I've written, and then look back up to meet his gaze once again.

"I was going to wait until my lunch break," I whisper with a shake of my head, "but I'm afraid if I wait that long, I might let you talk me out of it."

"I won't try, if you tell me not to."

The sincerity in his voice is unmistakable, and it occurs to me that I'm not worried about Frost convincing me to do anything. He's never been able to before. Nobody can convince me to do something that I don't already want to do, except maybe… but she isn't here.

I'm not worried about Frost talking me out of it.

I'm worried that I might talk _myself _out of it.

So, I smile at him and shake my head as I stand up and head for the elevator.

"I know you just want to help me," I say to Frost as I pass him, patting him gently on the shoulder. "But I think I need to just do this now. While I've still got the guts for it."

And then my feet are carrying me into the elevator. Carrying me down the hall. Into an empty room on the first floor, where I shut the door behind me and set my phone and the sticky note down onto an eerily empty table in an eerily empty room. I take a seat and type those numbers into my phone, and then I stare at the green call button.

Just staring at it. Daring myself to push it.

And then my finger brushes accidentally across that button and my heart leaps up into my throat and gags me as the call is dialed. I can feel my brain sputtering as it tries to prepare for this conversation. Trying to find a foothold among the panic. And then suddenly there is a click, and a voice on the other end.

"Hello. You have reached the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in Holyoke, Massachusetts. If you know the extension for the party you are trying to reach, please dial it now."

My fingers hover over the keypad, frozen with indecision. I could still hang up. I could still back out. I don't have to do this.

_Yes, I do._

I punch in the extension that I've written on the sticky note, and I wait. I feel the nervous moisture from my palm gathering on the hard surface of my phone, so I switch hands and wipe it away on my pants before returning the phone back to my left hand just as her voice speaks into my ear. And even though I had known that I would hear it, my heart still pounds so loudly that I fear she may be able to detect it even from the other end of the line.

"Hello, this is Dr. Maura Isles."

"Hey… Maura-"

"I am unavailable to take your call at this time. Please leave me a brief message including the nature of your call and your contact information, and I will respond as soon as I am able."

After the machine beeps on the other end to signal that I should begin speaking, it is a few seconds before I manage to wrangle my brain into cooperation. And when I finally open my mouth, the words seem to strain my vocal cords as if I'm using them for some painfully unnatural purpose. But I clear my throat and force them to do my bidding.

"Hi, Maura. It's… This is Jane. I'm sorry I… want to apologize for… tell you I'm sorry for what I said to you yesterday. I never should have come into your work and said all those things to you, and I'm sorry. You didn't deserve to… for me to treat you that way. And that's… that's really all. I just wanted you to know."

When I hang up the phone, relief floods into my veins.

It's over. It's done. Whatever happens now, it is out of my hands. I crumple up the sticky note on the table and it is almost immediately damp from the moisture on my hands. And a painful memory worms its way inside my skull.

From the time I called her to ask her on our first official date. My hands had been so sweaty that I held a tissue in between my palm and my phone to keep the moisture away from the device. And I had left her a voicemail then, too, because she was in the middle of an autopsy and I didn't want to disturb her.

I shake my head, shaking away the memory as I stand up and move towards the door, tossing the sticky note into the trash can on my way out.

And I wish the memories would go with it.

* * *

The rest of the day goes by painfully slowly. Every noise from my phone sends my heart into a frenzy, and every time I answer, I realize quickly that it isn't her.

I'm not entirely sure whether I'm disappointed or relieved, but by the time I'm in my car driving home, I've resigned to it. Maybe she hasn't forgiven me. Maybe she doesn't care. Maybe she doesn't want to speak to me.

But it's done.

I've done the right thing.

And I don't expect her to reciprocate. I don't expect her to accept my apology, or to even acknowledge it. Because I don't know this new Maura. I don't know this woman who wears the wedding ring that I gave to my wife. She can't be the woman I married, because _that_ woman loved me. _That_ woman would never have left our children.

I don't expect this new Maura to call me back.

I don't expect this new Maura to forgive me.

And when I pull up behind Tommy's car in my driveway, I certainly don't expect this new Maura to park her blue Prius behind me.

But she does.


	9. Chapter 9

**I felt bad about leaving you with a bit of cliffhanger so... hopefully I'm making up for it by giving you a quick update. They definitely won't all be this fast, but I couldn't leave this conversation by the wayside for too long. You have all been so incredibly supportive with your reviews and feedback so far- it's all very much appreciated, and very encouraging. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

When I glance up into my rearview mirror and see her behind the wheel of that car, everything screeches to a halt. The dull _thud_ of my own heartbeat is the only sensation I'm aware of while I watch her slowly get out of her vehicle, intentionally avoiding my gaze as she ruffles nervously around in her purse for something. I can't seem to will myself to move, and I can't seem to will myself to look away from her. And then suddenly her car door slams shut, and it's as if the sound of it jars me into action.

I turn off my own vehicle and take a breath, opening the door and stepping out to face her. She is staring silently at me without ever quite raising her eyes up to meet mine, and then they flick downwards to focus on a point far below my face while she takes a hesitant step towards me. I glance down at myself to follow her gaze, and that's when I realize what she's looking at so intently.

The gun holstered at my hip. Her eyes hover around it, bouncing back and forth from my gun to my badge to my hands and then back again. As if she needs so desperately to avoid meeting my gaze that her eyes have pulled rank and forced themselves to look elsewhere. And not only that, but she's _fidgeting_. Shifting her weight back and forth from foot to foot, slowly turning the ring on her middle finger before clasping her hands together and then suddenly breaking them apart to shove them deep into her pockets.

No, this is not the Maura I married.

Where is the woman who confidently commanded every eye when she walked into a room? Where is the woman whose laugh could brighten even the darkest of days, and whose touch calmed every storm that tore through my veins? Where is the woman whose tears of joy I tasted when we shared our first kiss as a married couple?

She is not here. She is not this Maura.

But neither is the person standing in front of me a complete stranger. This nervousness, this discomfort… it all seems familiar, as if from a distant dream.

And then it dawns on me. Suddenly. Painfully.

This is the Maura whose name I asked on the first day we met. This is the Maura who clung to my arm in a sea of people when she attended her first BPD holiday party. This is the Maura who used her professionalism as a shield during social interactions, hiding behind scientific jargon because the risk involved in a real relationship of any kind was far too great to be pursued.

Before anyone valued her as a friend. Before anyone valued her as a _person_.

Before _she_ valued _me_.

I haven't seen this Maura in years, and I never expected to see her again.

"Why are you back?"

Those words weren't meant to escape my lips. I thought they remained safely tucked away within my mind, and suddenly I hear myself saying them. And I see her eyes widen.

She is afraid. Of _me_.

"Oh, I'm not… I…"

She takes half a step backwards, shaking her head defensively and reaching into her purse to pull something out of it.

"You got my message, I'm guessing?" I ask quietly, assuming that the answer is yes, or else she would not be standing here in front of our… _my_… home.

But the look on her face clearly says otherwise, as her head tilts in confusion and her hand stops rustling through her purse while her eyes, finally, make their way up to mine.

"Your… your message?" she repeats. "I was unaware that you-"

"I called your office and left you a message this morning. On your answering machine?"

She still looks bewildered, so I raise my eyebrows and continue slowly,

"You know… the thing with the blinky lights that people talk to when you're gone?"

For the briefest fraction of a second, I could swear I see a hint of a smile. But it disappears as quickly as it came, and she finally shakes her head while stepping back towards me again.

"I didn't go in to work today. I had… scheduled… the day off."

I know by the tone of her voice to look down at her chest for the inevitable appearance of little red blotches, and she quickly raises her hand up to cover the area when she realizes what I am doing.

"That _wasn't _a lie, Jane," she says defensively, rubbing gently at her neck before returning her hand to her purse and continuing her search.

"Uh huh. And when'd you '_schedule'_ it off? Last night?"

I take her lack of response as confirmation.

Before I can comment further, she pauses the search through her purse and looks over in my direction. Back to avoiding my gaze again, she seems to be speaking to my shoes.

"What did you say in the message?" she asks quietly. And when I don't respond after a few seconds, she raises her eyes back up to meet mine.

"I was calling to apologize," I breathe into the evening air, sighing and running a hand loosely back through my curls as I search for the right words to say to her. Looking at her, in front of me, it almost seems easier than it did over the phone. "I wanted to apologize for coming into your work and saying all the stuff I said. So… I'm sorry."

Her face softens when those words leave my mouth, and her eyes flutter closed as she appears to process what I've just told her. Then she shakes her head slowly, sadly, and opens her eyes to look back up at me.

"You don't owe me an apology, Jane," she whispers softly, turning her attention back to her purse and finally finding the object that she had been looking for. She pulls out a small, white envelope and steps forward to hand it to me. "You had every right to say those things."

I close my fingers around the paper and it only takes me a moment to understand what she's giving me. I rip it open and dump two rings into the palm of my hand, only now noticing the bare skin of her ring finger and shaking my head as I shove my hand out towards her.

"No. These belong to you," I tell her.

"But you told me-"

"I told you not to _wear_ them. I was… I was upset, and I didn't like the idea of you wearing them when we're not… But they're _yours_. So… don't give them to me. Sell them and keep the money, or whatever, but… don't give them to me. They aren't mine."

I thought up until this point that her voice couldn't possibly become any quieter, but her next words prove me wrong.

"I don't need money, Jane," she says simply.

"Yeah, no shit," I mutter under my breath, an image of my bank receipt from two days prior flashing through my mind. I stretch my hand out further towards her, raising my eyebrows and waiting expectantly for her to take the rings from my hand.

She stares silently down at them for a few seconds before flicking her eyes up towards mine, then looks back at the rings and reluctantly reaches up to take them.

"So… that's all you came here for? To give me those?"

There's an unexpected edge to my voice, and it startles even me. I don't know exactly what I had thought… or hoped… or expected her to have shown up in my driveway for, but I can't help feeling a remarkable sense of disappointment. Disappointment, and the beginning embers of frustration beginning to ignite into what may become anger if I'm not careful.

And Lord knows I'm not careful enough.

"Well, actually… I wanted to speak with you about something."

I take a deep breath, my eyes fluttering closed for a moment as I force the air out through my mouth in an attempt to douse the anger that's threatening to seep back into our conversation.

_You've seen how that scenario plays out. Don't go there again._

She seems to wait for a moment to determine whether or not I am going to respond to her confession, and when I make it clear that I am waiting silently for her to continue, she clears her throat and looks down to speak to my shoes again.

"Could I… could I see them?" She looks back up at my face now, and I glance down to notice that she's nervously turning the ring on her middle finger again. "The girls?"

_The girls_.

My _girls._

At the mention of them, I reflexively glance over towards the front door of the house. And suddenly I am all too aware of my two daughters who are just on the other side of that piece of wood. Suddenly I am all too aware of my brother sitting in there with them. I am aware of his son, my nephew, who probably accompanied them to Tee Ball practice and back to my house for dinner.

Glancing at that door, I suddenly realize how easy it would be for any of them to hear us.

To _see_ us.

"You can't be here," I blurt out quickly, stepping backwards and shaking my head. "_Jesus…_ what were you thinking, coming here? You have to _go_. You can't be here right now. The girls could… what if they…"

And just like that, anger begins flooding into my veins.

"What the hell were you thinking, just showing up like this?" I whisper through clenched teeth, feeling my brow lower as my jaw muscles begin to tense. "You can't just-"

"They're here?" she interrupts nervously, glancing over towards the door. "_Now_?"

"Well, where the hell else would they be?" I snap, practically rolling my eyes at her. "They do _live _here."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know they'd… Angela always used to take them for dinner on Wednesday evenings."

"Yeah, well, I don't hardly need a date night when I don't have a _date_, now, do I?"

She looks as though I've just slapped her, and perhaps what's worse is that I _feel _like I have. I let out a long, slow breath, shaking my head and glancing back over at the door as I try to expel my anger along with the spent oxygen in my lungs.

"I'm sorry," I admit quietly. "I'm _trying_ not to get upset, but… _dammit_, Maura. You _can't _just show up at the house like this!"

For a moment, she looks as if she's about to challenge me on this fact. Some part of me almost wishes she would, because I _know _she has every right to after I showed up unannounced at her work.

But this Maura's face begins to show her resignation without even putting up a fight.

"And you know I can't let you see them," I add with a sigh, almost as an afterthought.

And _now _I see the fight in her eyes.

_Now _I see a hint of that spark, her jaw setting in determination while her hazel irises harden against me.

"They're still my children, Jane," she states in a quiet voice that sends a chill right up my spine. But once that chill has passed and her words have set in, I feel the anger beginning to seep into my consciousness again.

"_Your _children? _Yours_?"

She does not waver, so I continue, taking a step towards her and lowering my voice to a growl.

"You left them with _me_. You left their protection to _me_. I'm not going to let you show up at _my_ house and see _my _children just so you can leave and hurt them all over again!"

"I'm not going to do that," she whispers, the hardness of her eyes unfaltering even under my scrutinizing glare.

"How the _hell _do you expect me to believe that, when you won't even tell me why you left in the first place?"

"I can't talk about-"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Maura," I interrupt quickly, my voice suddenly rising as fury floods into every word. "You already told me it's not because you _can't_. It's because you _won't_. There's a difference. And until you decide to _tell _me, I am _not _putting those girls at risk. It's not up for discussion."

Her eyes flick nervously away from mine, and then they widen considerably as she takes a step backwards.

"Jane…"

"_What?_" I snap angrily, turning to follow her gaze.

I see the door opening before I see anything else, and I don't even have time to react before a tiny blonde head of hair appears next to the handle.

"Mama, come insiiiiiiiide!" Bea calls from the doorway, smiling over at me as she bounces back and forth from foot to foot. "My feet are cold!"

I can tell the exact moment that she notices Maura standing next to me, because she immediately stops moving and her little face lights up with cautious excitement as she glances back and forth between Maura and I.

"Mummy!" she exclaims, stepping down away from the door and moving towards us.

"Bea, get back in the house. _Now._"

She skids to a stop and looks up at me, then over at Maura, then back at me.

"But-"

"GO," I order, taking a step to the side and blocking her path to the other woman.

Bea tries to step around me, but she's nowhere near fast enough. I reach down and wrap my arms around her, lifting her off the ground and clutching her against myself as I storm back over towards the house. She starts crying, calling out for Mummy as she struggles to slide out of my grasp, but there's no way I'm letting go of her.

"Janie, what the hell's goin' on out here?" Tommy asks as he appears in the doorway. It only takes a second for him to notice Maura, and his face pales instantly, his arms reflexively reaching out to take Bea from me.

"Mum_myyyyyy!_" she screams, reaching her arms out towards Maura even as Tommy takes her back inside. I can still hear her wailing even once the door has closed behind them, and when I turn around, tears have already begun to slide down Maura's cheeks.

"I hope you're happy," I snarl at her.

"Does it _fucking _look like I'm happy?" she shoots back at me, a devastated anger showing its face that is nearly as forceful as my own. Even as she tries to catch her breath, sobs forcing their way out between her words, I'm still startled into silence by her sudden outburst. "I didn't _want _this to happen, Jane! I di-didn't _know _she would be h-here!"

She pauses again to catch her breath and leans against her car as a fresh set of sobs courses through her. And I just watch her in stunned silence, wondering what happened to the anger I felt towards this woman only mere seconds ago. Now, I feel nothing but exhaustion.

I slump back against my own car and rub at my eyes, taking in a deep breath and glancing up when I hear Maura's breathing start returning to normal. I catch her looking at me, and I shrug my shoulders, looking pointedly over to the house.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?" I ask, more to myself than to her. But she shakes her head sadly and shrugs her own shoulders.

"I'm so-sorry, Jane," she sputters, wiping a stray tear from under her eye and forcing herself to take a deep breath. "I just wanted to t-talk to you. I didn't mean for this to happen."

I don't respond right away, but I know she's right. Looking at her… I know she didn't do this on purpose. Just like I didn't intend to end up yelling at her when I went to see her yesterday. Just like I didn't intend to end up yelling at her when she showed up here tonight.

_God_, what a mess this is.

"Yeah," I finally sigh. "Yeah, I know you didn't."

"I don't want to hurt them," she adds quietly. "I want… I want to know them. I want to know my… _our_… children."

I sigh again, shaking my head and fixing my gaze intently on her.

"Why'd you leave us?"

"I've already told you that I'm not discussing that."

"Then _we_ aren't discussing _this_."

I push myself gently away from the car and head towards the house, turning around when I hear her barely whisper my name. My heart starts to beat just a little faster, as if maybe, _maybe, _she will finally tell me the answer to the question I've been asking myself every day for the past year.

"I know that I owe you a proper explanation," she tells me, looking down at her hands as she twists her ring once again. Then she returns her eyes back up to meet mine as she continues, "but I'm not ready yet. I'm just not. And I… I don't want to miss anything more than I already have. Jane… _please_."

"I can't. I c_an't_, Maura," I answer quietly, sounding almost as desperately helpless as I feel. "I don't know… I don't know how to _do _this."

"How to do _what_, Jane?"

"_This_," I repeat, gesturing impatiently back and forth between the two of us. "I don't know… how to _trust _you anymore. I trusted you before, and look where it got me. And now… now, I look at you and I don't even know who I'm looking at anymore, Maura."

She takes a hesitant step closer to me and seems for a moment as if she's about to reach her hand out to touch my arm, but she pulls back before she's fully committed to the gesture and returns her hand to her pocket.

"You're looking at _me_, Jane. It's just _me_."

"Is it?"

I'm searching her face, her eyes… looking for my wife. But I can't find her.

Maura lowers her eyes to my feet, sniffing and taking in a quiet breath.

"Please… consider what I'm asking of you," she says after a few seconds.

Then she turns and heads back to her car.

And I thought I would be ready for her to get in and drive away. That's what I told her to do, isn't it? I thought I would be ready to see her leave, and for this nightmare to be over.

But it feels wrong.

"Wait," I call out to her, causing her to stop and turn back towards me. I sigh, glancing back over towards the house, from which I can still hear the loud wailing of my daughter. A child who so desperately just wants to see her mother. A mother who so desperately just wants to see her child. "If… if you want to see them… then it can only be when I'm there."

She nods, her eyes expressing the hope that the rest of her face tries so desperately to hide.

"Bea's got a Tee Ball game on Friday. I'll be there, Tommy'll be there, Ma'll be there. The girls will both be there." I pause to gauge her interest, and notice the white-knuckled grip she has on the top of her car door while she stands waiting for me to speak. "I'll… email you the details. If you decide you want-"

"I can make it," she says quickly, assuredly. "I'll be there."

I nod, and she moves to climb back into her car as I turn to head back into the house. Before she shuts the door, and before I've opened mine, she calls out to me.

"Jane?"

I turn around to face her, raising my eyebrows expectantly.

"Thank you."

I can't quite bring myself to respond properly, and I'm not even sure why. My mouth simply won't form the words 'you're welcome'. Instead, I nod and reach my hand out to pull open the door to my home.

"Goodnight, Maura," I finally manage.

And I don't watch as she pulls out of the driveway, because I can't bear to watch her leave again.


End file.
